#imagine having something so valuable to somebody you cared so much about

[arthursfuckinghat]

Do. Do you. Do you ever think about John reading Arthur's journal. Do you ever think about it. Do you think about John reading all the things Arthur never spoke about. Do you think about John holding the last months of Arthur's life in journal form. Do you think about John learning his brother's secrets. Do you think about it.

[darlingpwease]

ok im once again here telling you my thoughts about shi mei and when i tell you that he would make love to you and whisper possessive words to you after he has seen you talk to somebody else like xue meng or mo ran, it doesnt matter if it was for one minute, the second you two are alone, he is latched onto you, touching you everywhere. KFJDJTRIGFHJFKGJJ

oh person of culture I see~ <333 hihi again~

CW petting, crying [shi mei]

looking at SHI MEI, it's hard to imagine how he can be jealous — even when you were awkwardly circling around him, as if around a delicate flower that will wither if watering is untimely or the sun is too much or not enough, as if you were growing the most important treasure in the history of the world, SHI MEI seemed more like a gentle pure fairy, refined and delicate as white jade, with almost transparent but bright eyes and chiseled facial features, and every day his beauty became more and more inhumanly overly attractive.

flexible as a willow, thin as a stalk — you really try not to be the "I like you because you're beautiful" type, but the way SHI MEI almost shamelessly subtly teases you that he knows that you think he's beautiful, constantly makes you wonder if it's really teasing or he's innocent.

he subtly manipulates emotions and people, but he is not the best at understanding how to "hold", "get" what he is looking for and craves — given his own weakness, SHI MEI knows that he can only seek outside help, even if it is potentially harmful. he is not a proud beauty and not a self-confident idiot — if bamboo has to bend down to endure, then only to then hit with more force, and SHI MEI prefers to associate himself with this "bamboo". even if he does not have an understanding of how to move on, but there is a goal, he will come up with something — or find someone who will help him come up with and fulfill his goals while he is their trophy butterfly.

SHI MEI understands his value and knows that his body is valuable and useful — besides being eaten, he is as soft and beautiful as the lovely maiden, and dual cultivation is not something he is disgusted with, especially when his fingers slide over your body, rougher than his, hotter than his, more sensitive than his, but he only purrs in an unusually pleasant voice that he... takes care of you, drawing lines of constellations on your skin. after all, he is a healer, and since you are protecting him, protecting your butterfly, it is only natural that he helps and heals you. "different methods of treatment have different appearance," he whispers hoarsely in the dark of the room, when only his eyes shine like two lakes, the depth of which you do not want to check, "your wounds need deeper diagnosis and treatment. everything will be fine. you and I are already connected, so everything will be fine."

and you are not an idiot — all the more grateful that he did not erase your memories of that night, but you are sure that this is not because he is "cute", but because he knows that in the future you will still find out about this sprout inside, and wants to make sure that nothing will threaten your 'love' for him. you don't mind — SHI MEI, although looks like a gentle, pale-faced maiden, sitting only under the caresses of moonlight, is persistent and confident (or wants to look like that), and you know that you are achieving what you wanted while next to him, proving loyalty and loyalty again and again.

but that's not enough. it's never enough.

"he touched you." his fingers are cold when they slide, sitting on your hips, as if taking care that you do not escape, although you doubt that this is how butterflies treat their favorite flowers. "and talked to you. what were you talking about? was it really necessary to approach this dog?"

his thin, delicate fingers slide to your neck, placing his thumb and index finger on the skin with an elegant and unobtrusive movement, as if his very presence relaxes like a dope of poisonous flowers, and you know that at any moment you can throw him off and press him to the bed — and he will not be able to do anything about it — but you still allow his fingers feel your pulse while his burning eyes look into you. "you shouldn't be talking to them. neither with the first, nor with the second, nor with shizun. we have another mission, another goal. don't get close to them. don't look at them."

his whisper is hot, almost hard, but you don't react, holding him by his thin, fragile waist.

"I'm worried. we never know what's in their heads; they are dangerous. and the less you get attached to them, the better. you are the only and most precious thing I have, and when we start, I can easily leave, but can you?... or will you leave me? will you leave me alone after everything that's happened?... it's not safe for you and it's stupid. we should be together."

his warm fingers touched the pads of your fingers to your almost indecently exposed skin.

"we're together. you and me. I am your butterfly and you are my master. I am the owner of the flower and you are its bearer. we have chosen a goal together and together we will achieve it, as we should. this is a fact. don't create attachments with others. our goal is much bigger and higher than they can ever be, and you understand that too."

SHI MEI'S body is soft, flexible, slender, tender — used to suppressing tears, but when you squeeze his waist hard, pinching, his eyes shine with golden tears, which, like a molten sun, slide over his fluffy long eyelashes and glue in the corners of his eyes, falling on his cheeks with amber streaks, gliding like a morning ray, and, flowing down his elegant chin, fall on your naked skin, forcing you to exhale raggedly. his pearly delicate skin glides over the drop of a tear, rubbing into your skin and staining the skin around when the stain still remains. "it's a sign. it's a mark that you're mine. you can only be mine and I can only be yours. don't look at anyone else."

his hot trembling fingers slide over your skin teasingly slowly while the intoxicating whisper sounds right in your head, and the glitter of drunken eyes with dilated pupils touches and excites even more.

"my. my. only mine. the butterfly has only one patron and the patron has only one butterfly. You don't need anyone else — I am completely perfect and ready to become even better. you don't need anyone but me. don't be offended with anyone else. not with a spoiled one, not with a dog, not with a shizun — not with anyone. no one is worthy of you and our mission. we should be together.

no one else.

just us."

his kiss tastes like blood — not your blood — but you just hug him tighter around his slim waist, feeling his short fingers dig into your body before sliding lower while his lips are a few millimeters away from you.

"I am enough for you, and I will prove it to you."

his eyes intoxicate you, but you still allow it, shamelessly removing the now teasing fabric of clothes from him, exposing beautiful soft shoulders and pretty tender chest with seductive lines, even if his lips are already caressing you along with thin delicate fingers, purring.

he is like maiden.

... no, he's even better.

[vvh0adie]

ngl chaeok from gyeongseong creature should be in a sapphic relationship (maybe bisexual poly?)

ugh idk (stick with me)

maybe i would feel different if her love story wasn’t unfolded in the course of three episodes

like that’s all it took for them to fall in love?

is it the demisexual/romantic in me? cuz i feel like to should have been slower😭

i say this because on the surface level her archetype is just a butch lesbian (i don’t think that’s a good thing cuz there’s obviously more complexity to butch/studs)

it felt forced but the writers had to force shit for a miniseries

but i was also thinking of those times when she was more fem presenting in terms of clothing and she seemed comfortable

so then i’m like could it be that since she had such a hard ass life she wasn’t afforded that? cuz when you take that into consideration that’s a common thing with WOC when faced with colonialism

in order to not fit in with the status quo and do revolutionary work she is stripped of that by design cuz she and her father could have very well decided that the missing people where pointless and became somebody like taesang

they had become dirty sleuths which in a way proves the japanese ill conceived notions about koreans “right” but it also gives koreans an upper hand because if someone already expects something of you then you have nothing to loses. you are free from respectability politics and that makes wanting freedoms much more valuable to you

cuz take taesang, although korean, he tried to assimilate and this man was really worried about losing material things at first instead of not having his freedom because he was so caught up in appearances. “if they think i’m one of them, they won’t hurt me.” WRONG. THE JAPANESE HURT EACH OTHER POOKIE😭

but i will say that doesn’t negate his trauma. he was trying to survive by playing capitalism’s game when it wasn’t designed for him. hell its not even in the japanese best interest either.

do yall see how much chaeok and jungwon kept putting their lives at risks? they did not give two fucks. it’s either freedom or die trying.

so like before she was a sleuthy butch, a lot of her flashbacks are her in traditional hanbok but also she never comments on not feeling uncomfortable in her baby blue pants suit when they infiltrate the hospital.

had they flushed out her character more in that regard, that would have actually made a conversation with taesang about

“do you not enjoy nice things?”

“yeah, but i would have preferred the suit.”

cuz let’s be honest, i was not feeling the love radiate off taesang until he was crying over her dead body. like yeah he saved her a couple times.

but also the whole hand holding thing😭 SHE DID NOT INITIATE AT ALL and had that man sweating about if he should hold her hand. I THOUGHT YALL WAS IN LOVE. YOU CANT EVEN HOLD A BITCH HAND. WE ARE AT THE FINAL HOUR!!!

but back to chaeok. her father made taesang promise to take care of her and provide a life that wasn’t sleuthing. basically he said “give my daughter a soft life.”

we can’t deny that taesang is a traditional man. he would have her dressed in the finest clothes. she would not have to walk around like a hard ass man anymore.

but i’m stuck at a cross roads where i’m like i see the potential for her to be butch but also keep femme. and i also see potential for her to have something meaningful with taesang but also a woman

in black culture we have stems (stud + femme) so that’s how i imagine her

but really none of this matters because honestly i don’t even think there should have been romance in this at all or at least not as heavily. (the ending pissed me off, they just opened the tropes chest and grabbed shit)

i wonder why they felt nobody would want to watch the show without a romance. it’s a historical fiction with so much history, it could have done without.

[bluesky88diary]

My beautiful flower, dear angel Seungyeon,

This early morning, I wake up with thoughts about you, when we cherish love and every gentle feeling between us, and yet I want to share with you my heart and even more, the concern I have for you.

My personality in love and family is the type of person to give everything to only the one, beloved and the best, the most desired and admired, gentle and beautiful, caring and touching, precious like warmth of sunshine, valuable like advice of wise friend, lasting like promise of God. I always cherish this dream in my heart, for the person my life will be united by heaven, will become my everything, and I will give all the best of me for the one and only, friend of my heart and love of my life. Thus, I want to look back for a while and expose for you, dear Seungyeon, our today, for you have no doubts or fears, no regrets or sadness on you heart.

Passion is sweet like a wine, makes moment sparking like Christmas and heart tremble like lovely wings of bird. However, the older I become, the more I understand the way it was designed, to become a blessing for two people, uniting them with bonds of love and something sacred and very personal, that won't ever be available to somebody else. This passion was designed for only two hearts, and only for a lifetime. This way it works the best, imparting life with happiness and joy. But now looking back I understand better how much foolish we were. I don't want to say that Hara was a mistake, don't take me wrong, such love cannot be a mistake. But what I want to say, passion can make us blind and exceptional, which supposed to be in the family like safeguard of this love between only two, for nobody else could shutter the blooming garden of love. Many people are suffering being foolish for the moment and do not consider or even know what consequences next step can bring in their lives and families. Thus, often we rush to love, twirl among feelings and passion, considering not, are we even suitable for each other, our characters, values, lifestyles and goals. We don't consider the most important thing, the family, and give everything into our feelings. Then suffer, because things don't match, don't last and break apart. So now I have a glance back, and I miss each beautiful moment, I wish it could be only for you, all the best of my heart, to make you feel and be the most loved woman ever, without doubts sacred person of my heart, the one and only. This was my dream from the very beginning, but I was foolish taking not into account what the real purpose of family, how does it works, and what is the best not only for beautiful feelings and memories, but also for life and love.

We cannot rewrite our past, we pay for lack of wisdom, because we never were taught how to love and even more important whom to choose. We can make excuses for each decision made, but at last things will be precisely correct, we reap what we sow, and lack of understanding or abundance of imagination won't change it. We believe that love can make us match anyway, but in fact, if two people match only for 96%, it's not complete, in fact they don't match at all. 4% of bitterness is enough to destroy everything they tried hard to build. One spoon of bitter will spoil entire barrel of honey.

Today I want to say, forgive me for being foolish, knowing not what future can bring for us. Because looking back you can have sadness and doubts do I really love you the most and strong enough. I should trust Jesus more and follow his guidance, not my passion, trust his wisdom instead of my feelings. But today I have good lessons and a little sadness that despite of my wish you can look back with doubts and hesitate to believe. But I want to encourage you, despite of our past, thanks God, we are not the source of love, which comes not from our hearts, but from the Spirit of the Creator. And this is the most beautiful part, even though we can go astray and make wrong decisions which impact new family about to be build, God is the master builder who alone makes things accomplish. When we trust our family in his hand and invite his divine presence and spirit into our heart, there is nothing impossible.

Today I want to ask you to believe, and if you see our hearts match with each other, don't doubt and step confidently, trust your path in hand of God and he will accomplish all the purpose for your life and family.

Let's trust Jesus more, because he knows what's the best for us.

[clerkpea39]

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[americancowgirl19]

Nobody to Somebody

Summary: You started in Riley’s newborn army and now you’re moving up to Volterra, Italy.

Warnings: violence, hints of possessiveness, fluff, 

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Felix, Demetri, Jane, Alec Volturi x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,114

A/n: Might make more parts to this, idk. Also, I know that Alec and Jane are supposed to be really young but I imagine them as older teenagers. Also, Alec and Jane are not mates. The guard are not mated together they just share you, the reader, as a mate. So, no incest.

Masterlist

You were a nobody. Honestly, you had nothing to do with the drama of the supernatural world yet you were still pulled into it. You were innocently driving through Seattle to Mount Vermont when you were killed. 

Riley had dragged you out of the motel parking lot and bit you in the neck. The pain is indescribable. You screamed so loud yet nobody came to your aid. When the torment stopped a different pain started. A hunger that could only be satisfied with the blood of humans.

You turned into a completely different person within a span of a couple hours. You were stronger, faster, and deadlier. You were put into a group of others like you. It was a constant battle for survival. Everyone fought for their food. Everyone fought to be higher on the pecking order. Everyone fought you.

You were at the top, just below Riley. You weren’t in charge of anything but you certainly were the strongest. Those with the balls to go up against you found themselves dismembered before they could touch a hair on your head.

You were one of the few that were gifted. You had the ability to control people. You couldn’t control their thoughts. No, you controlled their bodies. You could force anybody to do anything and they couldn’t fight against it. At least you haven’t found someone who could fight against it. 

You could make them rip off their own arms, bite off their own tongue, set themselves on fire and burn to death. You could force two or more of them to fight themselves if you so pleased. Your ability to control made you valuable. Riley did everything in his power to keep you. 

You loved the power you had over everybody. You loved the pampering Riley gave you. You were arrogant but not quite ambitious yet. You were satisfied with the way things were, for the moment. You didn’t think about the future, you didn’t think about expanding your power. You just lived in the moment.

You were also the only one who met Victoria. She had a special plan for you. She whispered promises of grandeur that you couldn’t deny.

No longer were you the family girl that was content with a normal life. No longer were you the girl who was satisfied with being in the background. No longer were you the girl who wouldn’t harm a fly.

No, now you were the girl who killed anybody who got in the way of what you wanted. You were the girl with power and riches. As far as you were concerned, you were on top of the world. You could take anything you wanted and as the months passed, your ambition grew. You were beginning to want more.

However, you felt obligated to help your creators with their Cullen problem. You vowed to help them. Once they were taken care of you would move on to grander things.

When the time to attack the Cullens came, Victoria kept you by her side. You knew she had a vendetta against someone specifically and you were chomping at the bits to tear someone apart.

“They’re not here,” Victoria growls loudly. You growl as well wanting to join the fight but loyally stayed by her side.

“Where could they be?” You ask her. Victoria huffs racing through the woods. You pursed your lips but quickly followed after her. Riley joined up with the two of your as you made your way into the mountains.

Riley steps into view of the Cullen and human first. You observe them from the cover of the trees. The Cullen stood protectively in front of the human. She shared the same scent that had lead the other newborns into the clearing. Had all of this fighting been over this human?

“Riley... Listen to me. Victoria is just using you to distract me. She knows I’ll kill you. In fact, she’ll be glad she didn’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“Don’t listen, Riley,” Victoria pleads standing on a rock to the side of Riley. You slowly make an appearce behind your creator. The Cullen’s eye moves to you as does the humans. “I told you about their mind tricks.” 

“I can read her mind. So, I know what she thinks of you.” He tells Riley.

“He’s lying.” Victoria insists.

“She only created you and this army to avenger her true mate, James.” Your eyes go to Victoria. “That’s the only thing she cares about. Not you.”

“There’s only you. You know that.” Victoria vows him but you can tell that she’s lying. You smirk enjoying the show unraveling before you.

“Think about it. You’re from Forks, you know the area. That’s the only reason she chose you. She doesn’t love you.”

“Riley, don’t let him do this to us. You know I love you.” Victoria promises. You watch Riley curiously. You could sense the doubt in him but then he goes to attack. You flinch and move away when a wolf comes and chomps on Riley. Your eyes scan the area for more wolves not wanting to fall victim to one of them.

“You won’t get a chance like this again!” Your head turns back to the Cullen and Victoria. He continues to taunt her while you turn your focus to the human. You take a few slow steps toward her until her eyes catch yours. Your gaze hardens as you try to control her. Your intrigued when you find her just standing there when she should be choking herself.

You step back into the tree when the human moves with her vampire. You wanted a good fight but you also wanted to observe. Everything made sense now. Victoria wanted revenge for the death of her mate while the vampire tries to protect his. I guess even as a deadly vampire you’re still a romantic. You weren’t quite sure who you wanted to win.

Riley came back into view, you briefly wonder about the wolf. He and Victoria gain the upper hand until the human cuts herself with a rock. Your eyes instantly go black and all you can think about is the blood. Before you know it you’re running for her but her mate grabs you and throws you into the woods.

By the time you return you gain control of yourself. You had been working hard on control when you found out you were stronger and more dangerous with a clear head instead of being controlled by animal instincts.

“Victoria!! Victoria!” Riley screams, breaking your concentration. You felt bad for Riley and took a few steps toward him before you stopped yourself. 

Riley and Victoria knew you wanted to branch out on your own but that didn’t mean they would let you go without a fight. You knew how valuable you were to them. Nobody gives up their strongest player. 

You didn’t want to be the one to kill him, you still felt the slightest connection to him for turning you. However, while the connection makes you not want to kill him it doesn’t necessarily compel you to save him.

You smirk, stepping back from the scene. You would let the wolf take care of your problem. You hoped that the other vampire would take care of Victoria as well. Then, you’d be free and could do whatever you wanted.

You look away from Riley and back toward Victoria. You were pleased to see her losing the fight. Only when you stopped hearing Riley’s screams and saw Victoria’s head on the ground did you turn to leave the scene.

“Wait!” The Cullen calls after you. You turn your head ever so slightly.

“I have nothing against you and your family. I won’t cause any trouble.” You promise him.

“I know,” He nods, stepping closer but keeping his body between you and his mate. You smirk slightly knowing he could stop you from getting to her if you truly wanted too. “I can help you.”

“You help me?” You tilt your head. “Oh? How so?”

“You want power, you want to be at the top. Have you heard of the Volturi?” He asks.

“No.” You answer, your eyes narrowing.

“They’re vampire royalty. They’ll be at the clearing to assess the damage. You can leave with them, join their coven.” He tells you. You stare at him.

“And what do you get out of this?” You wonder.

“Time.” He says, turning his head toward his human mate.

“I’ll stick around, doesn’t mean I’ll go with them.” You say before leaving them on the mountain. You find the clearing and unsurprisingly see all the newborns dead.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her!” A woman with short hair shouts when you walk out of the forest. You eye the wolves and the Cullens cautiously. “The Volturi will be here shortly.” You slowly nod. Eventually The two from the mountain join you. You watch as a stray newborn almost kills a wolf before the drama seems to end.

The Cullen clan stand together. You notice Bree standing behind them. She had been in the army. She was one of the lower vampires, a vampire that didn’t do much. You’re slightly surprised that she survived.

You don’t have much time to dwell on Bree when something catches your attention. Four distinct yet mouthwatering scents. Scents that tempt you more than any amount of fresh blood. You can just feel your eyes darkening even more.

Four figures in cloaks enter the clearing. The two in the middle wear midnight black ones while the outside two sport charcoal grey robes. They lower their hoods and their ruby red eyes fall on you at the same time.

Your instinct is to move to stand by them, your body even shifts toward them but you’re hesitant. You don’t know how to act. You don’t know what to do. Logic tells you that your scent appeals to them as theirs does to you but you hesitate nonetheless.

Seeing the conflict in your eyes, the furthest from you, the shorter of the two in the grey cloaks, holds his hand out in your direction. There’s a sly yet inviting smirk on his face. Your body reacts before your mind. You rush in front of him, your hand instinctively falling into his gloved one. He yanks you into his chest, his arm snaking around your waist.

Both of your heads fall into each others neck. You both breathe in each others scent but he’s the only one brave enough to place a gentle kiss on your marble skin.

“Impressive,” A melodic voice reaches your ears. You pull from his neck to look at her. He refuse to release you forcing you to shuffle around in his arms. 

When you’re settled, his grip tightens forcing you impossibly close. With your back pressed against his chest, you watch the exchange between the Cullens the the cloaked vampires you assume to be the Volturi. Any anxiety that may have been present disappears the longer you’re in his arms.

“I’ve never seen a coven escape an assault of this magnitude intact.”

“We were lucky.”

“I doubt that.”

“It appears we missed an entertaining fight.” Your eyes shift from the blond girl to the one beside her. You wanted to be closer to them but you didn’t want to leave his arms. You didn’t understand and the unknown was frustrating you.

“Shh,” He whispers in your ear as he senses your growing distress. “Just a little longer.” He promises bumping his nose against the side of her head.

“It’s not often we’re rendered unnecessary,” She mentions.

“Had you arrived a half an hour ago you would have fulfilled your purpose.” You glared at him as he spoke to her rudely. Before another work could be exchanged you broke his arm without lifting a finger. He tries to hold in his groan but everyone picks up on it. Naturally, everyone looks to the blond on your side of the field but you just stand there with a satisfied smirk.

“You missed one,” The attention turns to Bree.

“We offered her asylum in exchange for her surrender.”

“That wasn’t yours to offer,” She tells him. “Why did you come?” She asks but Bree doesn’t answer. Your eyebrows instantly raise when the newborn falls to the ground screaming. You look to the blond beside you and realize why the all mistook the vampires pain to be her doing instead of you. “Who created you?”

“You don’t need to do that, she’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“I know,”

“I-I don’t know,” Bree whimpers. “Riley wouldn’t tell us. He said that our thoughts weren’t safe.”

“Her name was Victoria, perhaps you knew her.”

“Edward, had the Volturi had knowledge of Viktoria they would have stopped her. Isn’t that right Jane?”

Jane. A name so simple yet so perfect for the beautiful blond. You found yourself desperate to know more about her. To know more about all of them.

“Of course,” Jane assures them.

“Whatever Bree doesn’t know, Y/n will. She was in the thick of it with Victoria and Riley,” Edward tells them. The cloaks look at you but you keep your hard stare on Edward.

“You wouldn’t be suggesting something about our mate, would you?” The man equipping the midnight black cloak questions Edward, his voice edgier than before. As he spoke, the man holding you tightens his grip even more.

Mate. Of course the logical part of you knew but to say it out loud and to accept that it’s real is something else. You wanted to feel relief that they acknowledge that you’re their mate but you can’t help but to feel tense. They’re weren’t reacting to Bree very well and you had done more damage than she ever has. How would they treat you?

“No, of course not.” The leader of the coven promises before sending Edward a look.

“Felix,” Jane says, turning her head slightly toward the tallest. 

“She didn’t know what she was doing!” Jane stops Felix. “We’ll take responsibility for her.”

“Give her a chance”

“The Volturi don’t give second chances,” Jane states causing your body to go tense. The man holding your nuzzles shamelessly into the crook of your neck. You can hear him purring quietly. It helps calm you down but the anxiety in your chest lingers. “Keep that in mind, Caius will be interested to see that she’s still human”

“The date is set.”

“Take care of that Felix. I’d like to take our mate home.” Jane says. Felix glances at her then to you before moving to take care of Bree. You flinch when Bree’s screams abruptly stop.

“It’s alright,” The man holding you whispers. “Come on.” He grabs ahold of your hand and leads you out of the clearing. You follow them, leaving the Cullen’s behind without a second thought. They don’t stop until you reach an airfield where a private jet is waiting for you.

You take a moment to stare at it. You’ve never been on a plane before. You wonder where they’re taking you but you keep your questions to yourself. You figured you could count your lucky stars you didn’t end up like Bree, now isn’t the time to push your luck.

You knew that if you needed too you could destroy all of them but the thought of putting them through any sort of pain is displeasing to you. In fact, you hated the thought of them in pain. You knew you would destroy anybody who harms them. Though, this meant you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself against them should they decide to tear you apart. You’d much rather choose death.

“You’re thinking very hard,” You turn to look at Jane. You hadn’t even realized that the five of you had boarded the plane. “You must have questions for us.”

“Umm... Names would be a nice start,” You say, surprised by how quiet your voice is. The last few months you’ve had to be authoritative and demanding yet now you’re quiet and walking on egg shells.

“Of course,” Jane says giving you a gentle smile, a complete contrast to the girl you had seen in the clearing. She still seems reserved but she’s also more relaxed. “I’m Jane and this is my twin, Alec. That is Demetri and Felix.”

“Y/n,” You introduce yourself.

“You’re still tense,” Demetri notices. He sits beside you and rests his hand on your leg. “What worries you?” You look at him for a moment debating if you should keep your worries to yourself.

“No harm will come to you,” Alec promises. Your eyes turn to him. He notices the subtle relief in your posture. “We would never allow anything to happen to you. You’re safe with us.” Demetri leans over and kisses the side of your head as Felix sits besde you, the twins occupying the seats across from you.

“I thought you didn’t give second chances?” 

“You’re special,” Jane tells you. “You’re our mate. Our masters will be forgiving toward you.”

“Masters?”

“How much do you know?” Demetri questions.

“Up until yesterday I thought we burned in the sun,” You tell him. “I don’t know much of anything and I’m sure whatever I do know is most likely wrong.”

“When were you turned?” Felix asks. “We’ve been watching the army for a few months but we never smelt you.”

“Victoria and Riley liked to keep me separate from the others. I’ve only been a vampire maybe 5 months? I was only allowed with the others if they were getting too rowdy and needed to be knocked down a peg or two,” You tell them with your naturally cocky smirk.

“Oh? And what did you do?” Demetri questions.

“I can control people. I can make you do whatever I want,” You tell him.

“So, you could make someone shut up when they talk too much?” Felix smirks sending a look at Demetri.

“Well, yes but I normally just make them bite off their own tongue,” You state. Their eyes return to you and you suddenly get the feeling you spoke out of turn.

“Beautiful and deadly,” Demetri hums rubbing his head against yours as if to scent you. “Perfect,” He growls.

“Completely perfect.” Jane agrees. Your eyes turn to her. “You’ll fit right in, my love.”

“And where are we going?” You ask her.

“Volterra, Italy.” She tells you. “It’s where the Volturi reside and where you will live with us.”

“Sounds fun,” You smirk, holding her gaze feeling completely unintimidated by her despite knowing what she can do.

Volterra, Italy. Sounds like the perfect place to satisfy your ambitions with your mates by your side. 

[sugar-petals]

sub!Yuzu | nsfw alphabet

🌹 NOTE ⇢ content for our fave figure skater, the legend himself. mr. yuzuru hanyu is 1000% dom candy and i’m here to honor it at length ⛸

— WORDS. 5k

tags + warnings. dom/sub dynamics, femdom!reader, role reversal hc, smut, kinks, cum play, spanking, sex toys, very freaky yuzu, kitten play, mdlb, crying kink, food play, prostate orgasms, bondage, some deeper stuff & angsty bits, asthma mention, aftercare

  A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Once the cat ears come off, who is Yuzuru Hanyu not to remain in character for a while. For the shits and giggles, and because it’s cozy. Once a catboy, always a catboy, it’s the law of the land. Curling up, kneading at you for the head pats and massages, you know the programme. 

Also: Yuzu is famously soft-spoken and always finds the right thing to say. So, stimulating conversation for the cooldown. This is literally so nice. He’s unafraid to reflect everything in detail, say what he preferred, what you could change up together, what he wants to try next. The afterglow is not just physical, as in you give him something to drink, it’s 70% verbal which is very important to him as a consistent habit.

Of course, not to forget: Always gotta have a Winnie Pooh plushie ready. He embraces it readily and, as we know him, does some roleplay right then and there. Yuzu, professional cutiepie he is, is the kinda sub who treats all plush and pillow stuff as alive and breathing. You as his domme are in on the play and also treat his things as holy as they are to him. That Yuzu lets you into that world is the biggest compliment you can possibly get. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We all know Yuzu’s godly ass and thighs. Or the staggering waist and beautiful black hair that makes him a total bombshell in his classic comb-back styles. His face is soft and expressive and so damn unique, his legs muscular and long, his back and tummy chiseled, the list goes on and on. Jesus, he has so many great features. All body parts a masterpiece. That are all capable of god-tier contortionism on top of that, gotta mention it in passing. Just so you know if you haven’t seen him bend his every limb into directions you wouldn’t believe are humanly possible. 

Interestingly though. If he chooses, Yuzu picks his feet: They are his most important instrument and weak spot. His ankles are where the magic happens. So, you taking care of them a little would mean the world to him, imagine a candle light massage. Not to worry, no-gross-alert. Yuzu has perfect and cute feet. That’s gonna be a Victorian moment, oh my god I saw his ankles. For his partner, short and simple: He likes a shoulder to lean on. He loves being touchy in general, all body parts are amazing to him. Being in a profession that’s all about the physics, Yuzuru knows about the wonders of the body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Certified king of cumsluts, doesn’t even hesitate. The more, the merrier. If he’s not covered in sticky stuff, Yuzu would be underchallenged. It’s less about the taste, texture or any degradation, for him it’s the playing around with his tongue. Somebody wants his mouth preoccupied. Give the cat his milk. Feed him his own cum mixed with yours. He’s gonna lap at it and swallow.

Since Yuzu’s dream is a mommy domme baking him something, he just loves the smell of dough and hazelnuts and cinnamon and everything — you know what’s coming: Imagine the food play. Nuts indeed. Anything that even remotely looks like a creampie is something he wants to get his lips on. And Yuzu is not the type to be a foodie at all, let that sink in. Sexual-looking food is just too big a temptation, though. And you spoiling him that way... oh my. Surefire way to end up in bed right after. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has a butt plug collection. Once almost went on the ice with one in. The more you know. Also— this guy is the kinda type fantasizing to get absolutely railed on a bed of plushies. He has troubles suggesting it to you because he doesn’t want them to get actually dirty. But the idea gets the two of you kind of horny. Sometimes, a thought is better as a fantasy than actually executing it. You can use it for riling up’s sake, whispering it to him during dirty talk. How you’ll bounce on him and ruin him and milk him while he’s splayed out so innocently on your bed. I smell corruption kink. 

Another secret Yuzu keeps is just how much he changed his mind about wanting his partner to control everything in bed. He grew up with a pre-defined ideal type of a cute, nice skater girl who’d let the reins very loosely around him, who he can speak Japanese to because he had problems with English, who is small and someone he will protect. It wasn’t something based on experience and trying things out: It was simply expected of him. People wanted the domineering Yuzuru on ice to be that way in private, and make use of his power, be a man, savior, boss. 

The reality being: He never felt truly as tough on the ice, nor was he gender-conforming in person. In fact, that is what he became famous for, and it reassured Yuzuru very often how people would accept and actually celebrate this side of him. Which is so refreshing, and a sight to see. The side that was dorky, clingy, childish, gorgeous, and cute has always been there, but now he embraces it more as his comfort place. He has to know what he’s doing in his skating programme and show competitive spirit to achieve his dreams, but that’s where it stops.

His former ideals are something people wanted to hear, it was an adaptation of the environment rather than thinking it through on his own. So, years later — oh boy have things changed. Yuzuru no longer defines his ideal type that way, saying whoever he likes is someone he’d be with. What was a fantasy template and filter is now gone and adapted to his newfound, own preferences. Yuzu is comfortably open-minded rather than being a copy to mainstream. He found fun in speaking English, opened up to the world at large, had more girls around him who he could befriend, grew more confident in his stature, and is well aware — turns out he’s the cute one. Who needs to be taken under a wing. He likes strong-minded girls and says if he had a wife, she’d dominate him. Yuzuru secretly wants her to be in charge entirely, she owns his body and soul. Not in daily life where things are just normal and everyone goes about their business. Sexually, where he surrenders instead, and is taken care of.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The tale of an introvert. What he knows — he hides it well. Has eyefucked a whole lot of people and is the type to lust like mad from a far distance, and nobody will ever know. Crushes harder than peppercorns in a mill. If he loves someone, it lingers in his mind every split second of the day, may god have mercy on him. And if you know him: Yuzu aims too high to keep it light and easy and clumsy. He hates being an amateur, he’s terrified of starting out something. He dreads not knowing what to do, how exactly to behave, talk, touch, breathe, respond, negotiate, prepare. That’s a hundred percent like hell to him.

Ironically, he has a natural feeling for it and he’s literally amazing in bed, has a sense for social interaction is all the way cute with something valuable to say. But what he believes is something way different. Yuzuru is a diehard, nervous perfectionist. He can only think of it as a rated performance since his mind usually has to work that way to skate well. His esteem is on a knife edge depending on how well he thinks he does. So, the inevitable: He will shy away from sex altogether. He draws immense skating passion from staying celibate, in fact it’s his success secret, but it still eats him up from the inside and makes him frustrated beyond measure. Not even for the pleasure, since he’s so ambitious that’s almost forgotten about, but for being told he did well. 

That’s how much he believes sex is a drill and capability test. And it’s sad that he thinks it’s like his skating career, racking up points for the impossible things judges want and being in a deadlock when it comes to showing his artistic side. He feels thrown into cold water if he doesn’t know everything beforehand. If he ever works up the courage, which probably won’t happen, he will pay an expert to learn from rather than let something all over the place happen with a random person or even someone he might like. 

Yes, you heard that right. He’d rather see a sex worker than ‘mess up’ his first time according to his sky-high standards. So, Yuzu’s experience remains limited since he’s so 100% do or die, and so anxious, and so torn about social interaction, he doesn’t get how his peers can be playboys and get married and flirt with someone they like and all that. He sort of has an easier time with guys, but girls... he can’t approach. To top it off, he also feels like he’d burden his first time one somebody or embarrasses himself, so he will reject and avoid suitors. Those are usually not the people he crushes so hard on to begin with. It’s bound to be one-sided and he knows, so he will abstain and focus on career and use the cheers of his fans as a substitute.

Truth is, he feels helpless and distant from sex sometimes, especially with his practice-heavy lifestyle and hyper-smart mind, Yuzuru has an intelligence that exceeds what most people can grasp. He’s alone on the ice and Brian as a coach is often the only reference person who truly gets him, and leads him well without being controlling. But that’s professional life. Sexually, Yuzuru is metaphorically: coachless. He surely observed it well when Javier (the #1 ladies man, his opposite) was still active and a social butterfly helping him fit in, but Yuzu would always be worried about his extreme fame and spotless image when introduced to someone fangirling over him. He’d rather prefer someone who comes across as a mentor and solid, loyal-to-death person to look up to. So he would do anything to have someone benevolent like that. Most girls would expect him to be the sex god and expert, but he knows that’s only half of the story and based on his characters on the ice. Yuzu crafts these to counterbalance how he really is — withdrawn and indirect. 

Yuzu is extremely calculating and selective, he scans suitors well, protects his reputation, and is mortified of failure. So, he’d rather learn it by the book and from someone he’s not emotionally attached to. In a one-night stand that might also be the case, but he doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s absolutely terrified of sudden sexual vulnerability. He himself often says he values his own struggle between feeling so weak and being strong again 

Besides: He’d have problems squeezing hookups into his schedule and lifestyle, he’d have to cut down on things and create a double life. Plus, Yuzu is famously inept with social interaction up close, he flees the noise and unpredictability. So, it’s better to have a long-term partner. If he doesn’t know something yet, he has it down in one day like the single axel. Definitely counts on his partner teaching him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

We know Yuzu’s signature move is the lean-back Ina Bauer. So, whatever position allows for an arch is the real deal (cough, taking the strap — oh my god his ass is made for it). But anyway, he can pull off anything with that stellar flexibility and core strength. 

If I think about it. Yuzu might like sitting on your lap very much. I know it’s not a sex position, I mean it can be once his inner lapdancer awakens or you use a strap-on, I rather mean... just for some sweet moments and making out. But yeah: Fathom Yuzu gyrating on your like that. Not in an outright lascivious manner or Chippendales style. The Hanyu way, with embellishments and all the grace. This is gonna be a huge turn-on and perfect foreplay position.  

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not much to elaborate here: Yep, Yuzu is true goofball indeed. Really flustered and clumsy when eye-to-eye in missionary, and yet: He’s ultra serious towards the end, there’s gonna be an aggressive staredown before cumming. The feeling gets pretty intense, his duality between silly and ‘yeah, give it to me’ is no joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Would probably die from inflammation if he shaved clean under those tight suits and did all these chafe-heavy skating routines. Doesn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with, but for pits and pubes, it’s alive, wild, and decently long. Out of all people, Yuzu cares particularly about aesthetics, but in this case pragmatism will prevail. He doesn’t care too much about it either as long as it doesn’t get in the way of something. Having sex with Yuzu tends to be well um well all about a hundred types of friction so any stubble would be a bad idea.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You haven’t seen a guy in love like that. It’s a figure skater thing for sure. Since he works to portray these sentiments on the ice daily, hardly anybody can play up feelings so delicately and palpably like Yuzuru. Emotion is what his entire career is built on. He knows how to express himself directly, appropriately, intimately. Couldn’t be any more romantic. Yuzu can’t go without it. 

Very passionate, ‘for your eyes only’ kind of atmosphere. Yes, he shows off on the ice, it’s his job (although of course, that word doesn’t really sum up what skating means to him). But private Yuzu is someone you can claim as yours. He will make it clear, he wants to belong to you, he’s yours, dedicated, devotion is the entire point. Less with a slant of what some subs like, very hands-on ownership of a mistress. It’s more emotional. He’s really attached and all smitten. Your private little haven is everything to him. 

Talking about little: Yuzu can be quite a pillow prince sometimes. At least when the initiative doesn’t go back and forth as it frequently does, you often alternate with suggestions and ways of tweaking an ongoing play session. You blindfold him or tie his wrists, He might be standard tired from practice or just fascinated to watch you work your magic on him. 

He also likes music to set the tone for intimacy, who’s surprised. Prepare: Yuzu likes dramatic classical music all the way. He’s probably one of the few people who can make it more than ‘classy’ and definitely more than cringe. He selects pieces very well. This is gonna be a practice template to cum together when the music reaches its peak. Makes the whole thing full of adrenaline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Lots of fun to him. Would beat it 24/7 if the ice wasn’t calling him. Drowns himself in lube. This guy’s me-time is so rated R, Cardi B would be inspired to remix WAP to wet ass penis as an anthem just for him. A dry dick is a ruined day for Yuzuru, as is a session without teasing his prostate in whatever way he currently fancies. Once he tried it, he never went back. The intensity knocking him out is something that Yuzu thinks about all the time. Strokes like a pro, does all these little moans, can do it forever, loves the feeling, chases the high. Adrenaline junkie on the ice? No different with his hand around his cock. 

Will masturbate everywhere in the house and has to really get his head in the game to make sure he won’t ruin any carpets. So, he always has at least two towels with him. In the kitchen, in front of the TV, in the shower, the bed. Watches his fair share of eclectic porn, he gets really desperate. Especially before you started dating, Yuzu would shut himself in until the lotion ran out. Can jack off to something romantic (he starts crying) or something extreme (he loves shocking himself and ). 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Very curious about sadomasochism. Googles a lot of things that make him hard during the day. Often jawdropped by his research, but once he tries things out with you, nothing can really shock him anymore. Absolutely wants to be collared, it’s his biggest fantasy. Another little secret he has, Yuzu is decked out in skating gloves, right. He wishes he could feel you wearing them, or he keeps them on for sex himself, the lacey transparent ones. Looks especially pretty when his wrists are tied so, major photograpy material. Oh yes, Yuzu likes the camera, he can work it. The guy is photogenic in any position and can strike any angle you want. Your phone background is a new Yuzu snapshot every week already, imagine your gallery, 5800 kinky pictures.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I’m gonna say it. The frozen lake out of town, late at night, condoms and lube with you. A quickie that will leave your genitals frozen. Yuzu might get stuck inside you because it’s -15 Celsius. Call that fantasy on ice. Jokes aside: Come on, Yuzu is the biggest ever hermit homebody. The couch will have a bunch of indents after your week-long fucking sessions after he comes home training. Also, at his desk while he does work for university. You ride him, Yuzu studies. Double the ambition. His dick is completely sore. The lake out of town thing might go down, but without sex. Just skating together under the stars, Yuzu doing amazing spins and spirals around you, very very romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yuzu is a crazed Sagittarius. Have you seen these men? They just want it all. Must be the influence of Jupiter. Zeus was definitely vibing that way. And yes, Yuzu has borderline unhealthy gold medal thinking in bed. He wants to be not just good but damn good with pleasing you. If you don’t have a good time and head home without an orgasm, he’ll consider himself a failure. Yuzu won’t cut himself any slack there. You’d have a hard time changing his ways into something more chill and moderate. Instead, you will see the benefits of rolling with it once you see how improvement fuels him and does make sex really mindblowing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Couldn’t do things like slapping you, spanking. Yuzu makes for a terrible daddy dom, it’d not suit him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Cum-dripping oral mess, Yuzu is the brave kind. Totally into it, and can’t resist a good blowjob. Will act different afterwards, there’s a lot of erotic tension. “This evening again?” is what those eyes are saying.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Outstanding kinesthetic intelligence. Every inch of his body follows his intent, and yours if you have him take on certain ways of kneeling. Yuzu can do it all, whatever you want. Tantalizing, moderato, overwhelmingly fast. He can take it, he can portray it. And knows the value of a pause like a true connoisseur. Not just when he wants to prevent cumming early, also just because the moment is right. That’s why cockwarming is a staple, as well as you having him wait patiently for kisses. To top it off: If you give him a blowjob, building up the tension by doing nothing is damn effective. The ruined orgasms you’re gonna give him... delicious.

Everything’s gonna have nice transitions as well, no awkward climbing and rolling and tangling limbs. If he gets something from another room that you need, no slouching. The university course as good as the extracurricular activities. Being inconsistent with any subsidiary details? Not in the Hanyu household, he’s keeping it classy. Yuzu feels like if he makes the bridges to new positions even remotely messy, the feeling is killed and it’s as if he’d break character mid-skate. Although he’ll have to practice and refine and test a lot of things because he’s not super experienced and adapting to your own movements is an individualized thing to do, he’s a masterclass of quality, period.

Even when things get fast and heated, nothing feels off. Having that kind of body smartness also means: Yuzu learns by touch, whatever you do. He knows by the way you pull his hair what comes next. How much saliva drips off your tongue when you suck at his neck, he knows how hard you’ll to ravage him in five minutes. This guy observes things you aren’t even conscious of because his physical understanding is just so fine-tuned.

The sense of rhythm, and every skating programme of him will showcase that, unbeatable. Unless his mood is really impacted by something severe, your guy feels it in every bone. He’s an artist, after all, he listens to music all the time. Dissecting rhythms to turn them into movement is what his line of work is all about. The pace will always fit the mood. Everything is precise, but never crude. Instead, the way he moves is dictated by an inherent flow. With little accents that match right with any thrust, like putting his hands on your sides when you’re on top of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hit it Shakira: Whenever, wherever! He seemingly carries an entire condom factory with him. Or, to be more exact: At least three of them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This one’s a complicated case. Yuzu being reckless on the ice may or may not mirror in your private life. He might need some downtime, so bring out the soft domme stuff. No trial and error stuff, just going through a routine of things you love the most. On the other hand, he always gives it all. This guy’s endurance at your hands is amazing. Advanced kinds of BDSM he will not feel deterred from at all. Rough toys, anal hooks, sounding, whips, why not is Yuzu’s motto. But then again. He has such a confusing mix of innocence and feeling like he’s completely hardcore. You might end up experimenting a lot, but also not daring the leap sometimes because the mood is different. And then rather go for softer hours, where Yuzu will be all shy shy and more bursting with excitement than ever. A good, interesting mix is what I’m saying.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yuzuru, once he gets a bit of practice to gauge the situation... Viagra on two legs, absolute unexpected powerhouse. You might end up pondering to work out a little and go for a run because this guy is in a consistently outstanding shape to say the least. Olympic athletes are literally hard to fuck with. And since Yuzu is starfishing sometimes (which is very adorable), or he’s in bondage for some time, that presents a further problem: For a second round, he’s full of energy, while you already spent energy. So, you alternate with who’s active, and the other leans back entirely. He has to remind himself since his body is programmed for it: This is no contest — the point is feeling good.

You might ride him reverse cowgirl all the way while you watch TV, and after the overstimulation fades he will eat you out ad nauseam, full course slobbering, sweeping the whole menu. That way, it’s less about keeping up with him, which would be hard for most people not doing sports at his galactic level. He understands, Yuzu knows he’s not normal in that regard, you don’t have to worry. Some exercise still doesn’t hurt, just to further increase the quality of sex anyway.

Then again: Why go jogging and do some laps wasting valuable together time when Yuzu’s lap is the best workout? And running doesn’t guarantee your stamina in bed is perfect even if it does help. You rather wanna manage how to draw out the arousal. It’s a self-control thing, with the goal of having you match up in every aspect as good as you can. In which case, you can count on him to pull it off: Have you seen Yuzu doing jumps side by side with a bunch of female skaters? Copy paste. This guy knows how to synchronize with the ladies.

Something that has to be mentioned beside that, though. Yuzu has asthma since 2 years old, and it’s often a mind thing to him still these days. He doesn’t let it stop him from sleeping with you because as always, he’s not letting anything get in his way. He has learned to live and thrive with it. But you both have to mind the possibility of an attack, he prevents it with inhalers, and the mood plays a crucial role. Yuzu being comfortable and confident is so important to his breathing, and keeping a good rhythm rather than being chaotic in bed. So, you will plan most of your sexual activities rather than improvising. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would stuff an entire sex shop into his every available orifice. Yuzu is a toy freak, he wants to try everything. Motto: a new one every day. Well, almost. But he can afford it. Buys stuff he uses solely on himself, things you use on him, things he uses solo and you use on him, and as the cherry on top, every possible high end vibrator on the market for you. Any size, too. This bitch will browse through the latest innovations, prepare to get off. He’s obsessed with seeing you use it on yourself. Yuzu owns a separate phone just for videos of you buzzing your clit, and him fingering you for minutes and minutes. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Extremely so. Loves to be a total brat only to get put into his place. He does it so you’ll pull the chin grab on him. He likes getting choked out as a punishment as well. Yuzu also tends to be very around the corner if you will when it comes to soft subbing, he lays over expecting cuddles but doesn’t say so. Buds his head against your chest, nuzzles, and so on. Lighter forms of teasing come to him very easily. Loves to prompt. Roughhousing, banter, favorite thing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Moderately loud because his voice is very very light, but unsurprisingly — he’s just beautiful. What a nice tone. Gorgeous whimpering sounds. And when you go hard on him, voice cracks! And really heavy breathing. What’s gonna be the most striking though is his expressiveness. We know it from the ice and interviews, and he can really amp it up even further. No need for screaming, that face will speak the volumes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You’ll be blessed with him if you have a huge crying kink. Yuzu definitely opens the waterworks every other week in bed. Happy tears, horny tears, relief tears, aftercare tears, orgasm tears, masochist tears, romantic tears, subspace tears, he has it all. He also begs for the type of pain that makes it stream down his face for minutes. He’s touchy-feely all the way and feels like he can really connect with you that way.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His ass twitching is kind of a spectacle, but I don’t have to tell you, do I. Yuzu has muscles for the gods in there. So voluptuous, you can’t call it any other way. Big booty boyfriend, Jesus you can show him off, he loves it. Around the house, he will flaunt them big ole athlete buns in particular, acting like it’s unintended. Um, Yuzu, those are joggings. Smack it, he is sure to moan. 

And may I respectfully mention as well — this guy has some major big ass balls figuratively and literally. How else would someone be motivated to jump a triple axel like it’s nothing. Not kidding, they’re big and round and ugh. His love for tight pants doesn’t help. He knows what your eyes like and dresses just to flex the goods. Screams for more spanking and pinching if you ask me. Yuzu is definitely serving it. Well-endowed, you lucky girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mega horny, ready when you are. On a scale from zero to hundred? Breaching into the 90 percent right there. Yuzu’s hormones are literally insane. On paper he’s 26, but his dick wants the 18th birthday party. Jesus is he gonna be clingy when he’s in the mood. All wrapped around you in a backhug in the kitchen or when you iron a costume of his, and that’s sexy of him. He’s not gonna hide what’s filling out those sweatpants. He’ll desperately grind up against you like it’s Christmas.

Paired with his puppy eyes and little “Do you have some time... I’ll iron this tomorrow” — instant pounce. He’s admittedly a bit hard to keep up with sometimes, though. The reason: With that level of exercise, he has major pent-up energy. That machine is definitely running. Heavy sports changes your hormones, nervous system, and especially blood flow. Now take that to the scale of his performances and regimens? That equals a firework of horny. No wonder he masturbates all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Takes some time. He cools down, sweats it out, chugs water. However, don’t underestimate how tired Yuzu can already be. His daily routines and competitions have a toll on him. Ironically, he’s not a deep sleeper, however. Yuzu might toss and turn and have sudden energy bursts, or ideas, or gets hungry. So, he needs his plushies, he needs a weighted blanket, warm pajamas, a hot cup of his favorite warm drink, a light snack, and you by his side. Spooning him excessively and sometimes even humming to him. Yuzu looks like a certified angel on his pillow, his well-deserved rest from everything is so important, too.

NOTE - hope i could indulge you, thank you for reading!

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. depictions fictional.

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

[cancerjupiter]

💨 air moons💨

If the Moon is in Gemini, Libra, or Aquarius, one adjusts oneself to the inflow of life experience by first assuming an intellectual detachment to assess things objectively through logic, or to test what is at hand using familiar concepts or theories. This tendency can of course lead to too much analysis, and a lack of clear decisiveness; but the potential for constructive and intelligent forethought can be valuable, and it is a quality often lacking in those with Water or Fire Moons.

gemini moon

If you multiply the fluctuations of the constantly changing Moon by the eternal changeability of Gemini, you arrive at some inkling of this Moon sign. It is the very opposite of stable and predictable. The strength of Gemini Moon is the quickness with which they react to input and to other people, and the rapid connections they can make with many ideas and possibilities. They adapt quickly to changes and their perceptions are often intriguing, motivated as they are by endless curiosity. In fact, they constantly need a variety of mental stimuli to keep them feeling alive and developing. The major problem for these folks, and for those who try to relate to them intimately, is that they never seem to know who they are for very long. They scatter their sense of identity and inner security along with their diffuse concentration. Emotions are a rather foreign territory for those with Gemini Moon and somewhat baffling for their illogical and fluctuating nature. They therefore need to communicate verbally about their emotional life to find some mental clarity about their irrational and changeable feelings (although sometimes talking endlessly and tiresomely with no resulting clarity). In short, they need to verbalize their emotions in order to feel connected with them. And, in close relationships, these glib and flirtatious individuals often continually experiment with their feelings, first expressing one thing and then another—to the profound dismay and frustration of their would-be partner—as if their chronic inconsistency and changeability have no impact on the other person.

This Moon sign is perhaps more averse to commitment than any other, and their emotional superficiality does not help the situation. There is a pitiful lack of touch with the subconscious, and although there is endless logical analysis of motives and rational examination, there is no change. This is only one manifestation of the dual-mindedness of this Moon sign, wherein one part of the mind does not know what the other part is doing or thinking. Contradictory reactions (even simultaneously) and unfocused thoughts and emotions often lead those with Gemini Moon to spread themselves too thin.

Gemini Moon desperately needs mental variety and learning of all kinds. But the primary challenge to them as they grow through life is confronting this question: With all these ideas and “facts,” do I have any depth of real knowledge, and with all this learning, have I gained any understanding? At their best, Gemini Moon people are witty and amazingly skilled in a vast number of areas, and they also have a lively communication style with a diverse array of people. At their worst, they seem possessed by—and thus at the mercy of—their own thoughts, leaving them endlessly perplexed and confused. They are also sometimes so subjective that they will not really even notice the other person with whom they are so actively talking and “communicating.” Grant Lewi also wrote perceptively about the intellectual pride of Gemini Moon:

“The picture of yourself that pleases you best is that you are an exceptional intellect to which the world listens to thankfully. To be as intellectual as you would like to be is a big order and may take more application than you are willing to put on it. Cleverness pleases you better than profundity. You would rather be funny than fair, exciting than stable, provocative than studious.”

Those with Moon in Gemini are often very clever, and they like to emphasize it, but their overly active minds, and their attempts to figure everything out through intellectual theories, can make them chronically unhappy. Despite the intellectual pride referred to earlier, their self-image is unstable, perhaps most of all because Gemini often finds it difficult to believe in anything. There is often therefore a confused self-image—and thus sometimes also an unclear sexual identity.

Women with Moon in Gemini are very talkative, very social, project a level of nervous energy in everyday life. Being around anybody with Moon in Gemini, there is a highly energy-charged atmosphere. The men share these traits with the women but also seem to be more like the types that “get around,” who are always on the go, doing something, giving somebody a hand. There’s a lot of versatility in both sexes, interested in many kinds of people and activities.

Emotional reactions are light-hearted, cool and startlingly versatile. Feelings flit like butterflies and are just about as hard to catch. To some, all the colour and brightness is irresistible. To others, the display is much too hollow, too unemotional, too fickle.

libra moon

Like Gemini Moon in the tendency toward indecision, but not nearly so scattered, this Moon sign weighs everything in their minds before reacting to any experience. One can get a feeling for this Moon sign by imagining a combination of the fluctuating Moon and the Libra symbol of the “scales of justice,” which oscillate up and down, continually adjusting even if a feather’s weight is added to one scale. Libra Moon often balances off whatever interpersonal input they receive, usually doing so gently. They take personal relationships seriously and pride themselves on fairness and being able to see the other person’s point of view. This tendency of putting themselves in the other’s situation, more marked in Libra than in any other zodiac sign, can be carried so far as to see them lean over backwards to please the other person—often even ignoring their own interests. Thei need to beliked that motivates much of their person-to-person behavior, to where it can undermine their highly valued objectivity. The desire to avoid unpleasantness can lead to relatively superficial, placating responses that may not be completely sincere—occasionally verging on flattery. They easily lose themselves in the other’s energy field and become confused about where they end and the other begins. Their spontaneous reactions are unconsciously modified by how the person they are interacting with is reacting!

There are, however, people with an imbalanced Libra Moon who exemplify one of two extreme modes of expression: either those with the tendency to please others and avoid any appearance of disagreement even to the extent of hypocrisy; or the occasional unpleasant ones who make it a point to be especially irritating and aggressive, as if to show you they don’t care what you think. In the first group, despite the powerful urge to play nice and pretend kindness, they seem almost unconscious of other people’s real thoughts and feelings. And of course, the second group would never in any situation bother in the slightest with anyone else’s thoughts or feelings. With either extreme type of Libra Moon personality, there is an inability to relate deeply and authentically.”

In both of the “imbalanced” types of Libra Moon just mentioned, the result can be a rather lonely life, something that is difficult and depressing for anyone with an emphasis on Libra, the sign of partnership par excellence. Libra Moon folks need sharing of ideas and idealism in life, and without that dynamic interchange and companionship, they do not feel secure or fulfilled. One sometimes wonders if there is deep down a profound fear of personal intimacy with some of these people, the emotional reactions often being so inhibited, regulated, and unspontaneous. One could easily interpret the motivation of the aggressive group mentioned above as a way of guaranteeing that no one likes them, thus making a close relationship, wherein they would have to give of themselves honestly and openly, completely impossible. This type of Libra Moon is completely self-centered and insensitive to others, and very exclusive in their views of other people and in their social lifestyle. They are also extremely opinionated. Although even the more pleasant and considerate Libra Moon folks can be very opinionated (even though they rarely acknowledge their true views in case it would cause disharmony), the irritating type of this lunar position is usually rigidly opinionated in a way that makes true communication a hopeless impossibility. People with this Moon sign often seem to lack intellectual confidence and thus seem unable to be comfortable with the natural Libran ambivalence toward important ideas. They then retreat into a safe opinion that does not have to be questioned or shared. The truly balanced Libra Moon personality can readily handle many sides of any issue or concept with impartiality.

aquarius moon

Those born with the Moon in Aquarius are the ultimate nonconformists. They instinctively react to most experiences in an unpredictable, often eccentric way. They will respond in a rather contrary way if you say, do, or expect anything that is socially or intellectually conventional. Independence is their primary guiding principle, and they pride themselves on their objectivity and intellectual integrity. In many areas of life, they are extremely experimental, and they rarely take anyone’s word for “truth” or as an ultimate authority—a quality that does not endear them to most of their bosses, supervisors, or even close friends, who may be far more knowledgeable in a certain field. Aquarius is after all the sign of the truth seeker; and it is the most scientific sign of the zodiac, in the true experimental sense of the word.

These guys feel most secure when exercising complete personal freedom of ideas, self-expression, and innovation. They need freedom like they need air, and they habitually rebel against too much restraint or anyone who tries to control them. Periodic radical life changes (social, geographic, domestic, or intellectual) provide some of this desperately needed personal space, rejuvenating and nourishing them, even though it may be difficult for themselves or their partners to endure. They have a rather odd emotional nature that infuriates and frustrates more conventional, predictable people, and this leads to their reacting eccentrically to many situations. The fact is, although they seem coldly mental, aloof, and sometimes even without normal human feelings, their emotional pressure builds up over time (since they find it impossible to keep in tune with those bothersome and murky passions and embarrassing needs); and it eventually explodes in impulsive, radical actions, or in sudden changes of plans or viewpoints. More than any other, Aquarius is a sign of extremism.

This Moon sign must be socially involved either directly with many people (such as in teaching or organizing conferences) or through publishing, social activism, or politics. They have an emotional need to affect large groups of people. Their humane understanding of broad human and social needs is actually much more perceptive than is their understanding of the needs of individuals. In fact, they often like studying entire societies or languages or other global issues, and the social sciences are frequently fields of interest for them. Aquarius Moon people identify with a society or with humanity as a whole. Their impersonal approach often elicits criticism from others about their aloofness and “coldness,” but in fact that very detachment enables them to respond to the emotional crises of others by remaining objective and staying above the turbulent and confusing emotional level. They are great friends and need to have friends that they would do anything for. You can tell them anything, and they’ll understand. They are utterly trustworthy, reasonable, and straightforward.… You discover how irrationally loyal these folks can be. Cool and detached they may seem, but they stick like glue to the people they love and respect. They stay in situations long past what others could handle and put up with.…

In fact, Aquarius Moon people rarely find their sense of security with family or physical relatives. They feel especially uncomfortable with such groups and the obligations and social protocols involved. They always seem to feel dissatisfied with their parents’ lifestyle and lack of communication, and sometimes that feeling of dissatisfaction extends to the country or culture of their youth. Therefore, they not only feel the need to detach themselves from the “oppressive” family, parental, and cultural influences, but they also sometimes extrapolate their dissatisfaction onto all of society and often expound many types of social protest. Good examples are John Lennon, Marilyn Monroe, and Lady Diana. A streak of rebelliousness thus pervades their memory of childhood and parental influences, and this affects their lifelong behavior in society. They insist on freedom from social obligations and conventional values.

The automatic contrary streak I mention above manifests in interpersonal reactions, in ways of thinking and discussing ideas, and in lifestyle. But it is the emotional contrariness and independence that sometimes cause them difficulty in relationships through others’ resentment or feelings of alienation. There is often an aloofness toward the sensitivities of others. Aquarius Moon folks prefer to maintain their stable focus and broad perspective than to be drawn into what appears to them the endlessly confusing morass of emotions that many people would like them to indulge in.

A dislike of routine and a strong need to prove self-sufficiency. A thread of separateness in relationships always seems present, as does unconventionality. Security with excitement is a major hard-to-achieve goal in life; needs constant stimulation within a fixed environment. I’ve had several close relationships with Moon in Aquarius individuals and none of them put any pressure on me to be any different than I am; they either accept or reject people but they rarely put anybody on the spot. I find Moon in Aquarius individuals to be straightforward once they’ve opened up. I always find myself confused in trying to figure out the independent yet sentimental nature of the Moon in Aquarius.

Both sexes can fixate for quite a period (sometimes days) on some extreme mood—either negative or unshakably upbeat. But the men were usually far less analytical about their current emotional state. In fact, whereas men with Aquarius Moon are usually seen to have remarkably steady moods, perhaps too steady in the view of many people who would like them to be more obviously responsive on a feeling level, women with Aquarius Moon seem to focus on their emotions and moods and then act them out in quite an extreme way. 

These people are very detached in daily life!! You can never tell what they are thinking or feeling, often they seem not to be listening at all! They dislike hassles and can withdraw at the drop of a hat, becoming very hard to reach or read. They are very matter-of-fact, very independent, self-assured when they do respond. They usually have something “different” about their lifestyles or interests. They usually have a very liberated sex life, experimental and blunt towards it.

[w1ndrunn3rblog]

Why Is Nobody Questioning Sylvanas’s Motives?

I believe the direct answer to this is simple – it’s because Blizzard are not questioning them. More specifically, no character that has ever known her is questioning them. I think it’s best we take a quick recap of recent events from these characters (her former allies) perspective – from the start of BFA, none of them have a clue what Sylvanas is doing or why. They start a rebellion, still with no clue as to what she is doing, lead it to Orgrimmar, then watch her disappear as Saurfang bites it, and they are still just as clueless as ever. Then out of nowhere, they are captured by winged monsters they have never seen before, taken to a barren wasteland hell in the afterlife which they have never seen before, find out Sylvanas is behind their capture, who then takes them to Torghast to be endlessly tortured, and find out she’s in league with this uber-Titan dude of Death called ‘The Jailer’ who they have never heard of before or even knew existed. They are then gradually rescued one by one by the ‘Champion’, and in all this time…nobody asks “Why is Sylvanas doing this and why is she working with this Titan we have never even heard of”?

To date, we have got precisely one line from Thrall that barely touches this question with “I never thought Sylvanas would be a part of something like this”…and that’s it. This line is practically begging to be followed up with “Maybe we should try to find out, there must be a reason” But after this one brief enquiry, not one character even questions. And the opportunities do not end there, of course. After they have all been rescued, they all sit in Oribos doing literally absolutely nothing. Despite somehow surmising that the Jailer is basically the Satan of afterlife hell, they have no idea why he was so interested in them and, therefore by extension, why Sylvanas would go to the effort of capturing them for him. Not one of them thinks to ask the question. Moreover, not one of them thinks to explore any of the other realms to find out more about what could be driving her allegiance with the Jailer. Like maybe why the Forsworn are also allied with him, why they are fighting to keep their free will with regards to their memories, and quite literally break free of the system they are brainwashed into believing is right. Or maybe that the Jailer captured the leader of the Necrolords, the military defense faction of the Shadowlands, and has brought several Houses onto his side. Or maybe that the drought is weakening the Heart of the Forest in Ardenweald which is the very force keeping the Jailer bound. Or maybe that the leader of Revendreth is in fact an ally of the Jailer, and therefore a de-facto ally of Sylvanas. That sure sounds like a lot of information out there that could give them all some insight into her plans. But no, for an entire patch cycle they sit on their asses…and do nothing.

Then there the fact that Sylvanas tells Bolvar in the intro cinematic about “This world is a prison” and that she will “Set us all free” But does he tell anybody this very rare piece of insight into Sylvanas’s plans and motivations? Of course, he keeps this piece of information entirely to himself. Does he tell anybody “Sylvanas believes she is helping Azeroth” or “Sylvanas believes she is working towards a greater good” or “Sylvanas believes she is freeing us all from a cosmological force”? Does he even bother following up on this himself? Of course not. After all, why should anybody be told this? I mean, we all know Sylvanas is constantly showing up every five minutes to drop another truth bomb monologue about what she’s trying to do, so this little tidbit doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, we’ll just find out more whenever she next drops by. Oh, wait…

Then there’s yet another opportunity for them all to ask questions, and maybe just maybe give her the benefit of the doubt, thorough Bolvar’s vision. Bolvar and the rest all see Sylvanas telling Anduin her (admittedly vague goals) but they never question why she thinks this. She talks of “a system that has always been flawed”, of replacing it “with one that is just”, of “we never had free will” and that “we couldn’t control anything” Yet what is everybody’s response? “Oh no we must save Anduin!” and “She must be stopped”…and once again, that is it. Let us remember again that nobody here has a single clue how the Shadowlands works. They are quite literally total aliens to this realm and do not know the first thing about it. By comparison, it sure sounds like Sylvanas knows a lot about the Shadowlands and how it functions, so much so that she has sought to bring about a cosmos-sized change to it all. Faced with such revelatory information, one would like to imagine the would ask questions – “What system is she talking about?”, “Why does she believe it is broken?”, “Why does she believe free will is an illusion?”, “Is she saying our lives are predetermined?”, “Does she feel she is trying to liberate all souls in the Shadowlands?” Once again though, nobody thinks to ask the most common sense questions. Questions that would occur to practically anybody faced with such an insightful vision. Alas though, none of the major characters care. The extent of their thought process in this completely alien realm they know zero about is simply “We don’t care or understand what Sylvanas is doing. It must be bad”

With all of these major insights into Sylvanas’s motivations completely overlooked, and the entire Shadowlands at their disposal containing a metric shit ton of valuable information they are just sitting on their asses ignoring, let us remind ourselves that all of these characters, with the exception of Bolvar, have known Sylvanas for many years and, in most cases, are former allies – many from the days of Warcraft III. Assuming that Azeroth years are the same as our own, that is about 18 years of this character they have worked alongside. They may have not ever wholeheartedly trusted her, but they nonetheless know her motivations and they know her character regardless. As such, for the sake of realism and continuity, in the context of all that they know about her, we should all be expecting them to think that her alliance with the Jailer is highly unusual and makes absolutely no sense, ultimately leading to a million and one questions. But they do not. Sylvanas is somebody who they have seen defend and fight for the Horde and bolster its strength by welcoming in other allied races, over the course of many years. They know that she has saved them personally, and the Horde as a whole, at the Broken Shore. They know who she is, they have known for many years that the preservation of her Forsaken people is her greatest priority, and that their role in the Horde is integral to that. As it turns out, Blizzard is telling us through these characters complete disinterest and total radio silence – all of that history counts for nothing, not even a single question.

The characters in World of Warcraft are simply a reflection, or personification, of Blizzard’s personal views they want the rest of the playerbase to have. By having the characters we follow and interact not show any care or devote any time into carefully considering Sylvanas’s plans or motivations or even try to understand them, they are telling us we as players therefore should not care about Sylvanas’s reasons either. Blizzard have set Sylvanas up to be villain-batted so badly that whatever she does now everybody just accepts what she does without questions. This happened all through BFA and now continues in Shadowlands, and when you think back to when this villain-batting started all the way back to ‘Before the Storm’ and then carried all the way through BFA, it becomes so sickeningly crystal clear that this was part of their endgame state with Sylvanas’s character.

If nobody in-game questions her, then nobody playing does either. We as players follow the leads of the in-game characters as to how we should view and feel about others. So if none of the in-game characters are questioning Sylvanas’s motives, what anything she has said might mean, or what events might have led to her current beliefs and allegiances, then Blizzard are telling us that we should not be questioning it either. Blizzard are telling us that we should just accept that whatever she is doing is bad, evil, incomprehensibly monstrous, and that she has to be stopped. It does not matter if we actually understand why she is doing this or not, or if we don’t even understand the first thing about the realm we are in – all we need to know is that what she is doing is bad and we have to stop her, end of discussion. It’s as bland and as predictable as that. There is no nuance. There is no attempt to have some seeds of doubt or alternative perspectives offered or questions asked by anybody, to make us consider that maybe not everything is as it seems, or that maybe just maybe has a valid reason. Blizzard cannot have this because that would introduce a narrative space for people to sympathise with their most-loved character, a character they have worked tirelessly over the past three years to systematically and relentless hammer with the villain-bat beyond all recognition. They cannot introduce complexity to her motivations, or have the characters – and by extension, us the players – asking legitimate questions, because they risk her being seen as ‘right’ or as a ‘sympathetic anti-hero’ rather than the simple 2D villain they have worked so hard to mold her into, and therefore have the entire plot backfire on them (just like it did in BFA with the laughably biased Saurfang quest chain which they were forced to change). To introduce such freedom of thought would be to plant a seed of doubt, a seed that could grow into a significant portion of the playerbase relating to Sylvanas and understanding what she thinks she is trying to do (even if they do not agree with her actual methods). And that would be a disaster from Blizzard’s point of view. You can almost imagine Ion raging “What’s this? We’ve given character’s dialogue that explores why Sylvanas is doing what she’s doing and now people are starting to get on her side?! This is not what’s supposed to happen, Steve!”

Besides Blizzard having the balls to pull the most blatantly transparently deceptive long-term plan to shaft every devoted fan of Sylvanas over the past 18 years, what frustrates me just as much is the amount of people who fall for it and believe everything Blizzard is telling them at face value. And we all know, that is exactly where they want everybody – because then they do not have to ever accept or apologise for screwing over their single-biggest most popular character and writing themselves into a corner they cannot get out of.

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT 

Word Count: 5k 

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!! 

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist //  Next Chapter -->

--

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him. 

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing. 

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake. 

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.  

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled. 

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly. 

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off. 

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk. 

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.  

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge. 

 If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again. 

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents. 

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.  

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know. 

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?” 

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about. 

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell. 

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise. 

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap. 

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night. 

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did. 

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.  

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it. 

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?” 

 “Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,” 

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter. 

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?” 

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said. 

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

 “Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes. 

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were. 

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed. 

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,” 

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner. 

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

 —

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time. 

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying. 

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you. 

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes. 

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening. 

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level,  “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?” 

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,” 

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!” 

“Insane,”  You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend. 

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you. 

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail. 

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you. 

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door. 

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well. 

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. 

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city. 

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him. 

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him. 

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes. 

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips. 

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards. 

“Fucking bitch,” He growled. 

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away. 

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete. 

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective. 

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?” 

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun. 

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again. 

“Where’s Peña?” You asked. 

“At the bar,” 

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease. 

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done. 

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?” 

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over. 

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head. 

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle. 

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut. 

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little. 

“Don’t be a baby,” 

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear. 

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly. 

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him. 

 “Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined. 

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh. 

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed. 

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed. 

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction. 

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet. 

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on. 

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now. 

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes. 

 You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building. 

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did. 

You opened it. 

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table. 

“Fuck,” You swore out loud. 

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest. 

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared. 

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked. 

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment. 

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly. 

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,” 

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded. 

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it. 

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,” 

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,” 

 “You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,” 

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head. 

“Guess not,” 

Next Chapter  -->

--

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

tag list: @beskar-falcon  @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @wille-zarr @danniburgh @rentheisopod @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick @pedrosmustache @wantingtobekorra @balmasedas @angelsunflxwer @brujademente​ @kingsmanandqueens​ @igotissueswithfictionalmen​

[giorno-plays-piano]

Come play with me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, home invasion, allusion to stalking and non-con.

Words: 1987.

Summary: Having to deal with Bucky Barnes, a talented head engineer who you have to convince cooperating with your boss, you suddenly discover his psychopathic tendencies. Worse, he has taken an eerie interest in you.

_______________________

“Listen, dear, I know what he asks for seems like something very inappropriate, but, in fact, the guy just likes you and-”

“No, Mr. Simons, he doesn’t just like me.” You snapped, bringing the cellphone closer your face. “This madman asked me to be at his disposal any time he wants. Please, don’t try to convince me it’s okay because this is madness.”

“I know, I know, he sounds like a psycho, but he’s not. Mr. Barnes is just... difficult. He needs to work on his communicational skills, he admitted it himself during our meeting today.” Your boss - or rather your ex-boss - was almost pleading you to listen to him, but you had enough of this nonsense. Nothing could change your mind after yesterday’s humiliating encounter with James Buchanan Barnes, the head engineer of HYDRA Corp.

“Sir, I have already submitted the resignation form. I perfectly understand the position you are in, but I’m not going to become a toy of this psychopatic man-child.” You answered firmly, looking at your lovely blue clock on the wall and knowing it was too late for any work calls. “Goodbye, Mr. Simons. Have a nice evening.”

Before he tried saying anything else to make you change your decision, you had turned your phone off and put it on your desk, sighing. You could never imagined one day you would face a situation like that.

Yes, when your boss got a promotion, you were truly happy for him. It also meant that you, his secretary, would now get a different type of tasks since you worked more like his personal assistant rather than someone who simply answered the phone calls and built his schedule. A raise was also quite nice. What you didn’t expect was having issues with Bucky, the genius the whole corporation knew about. He was that very same man HYDRA owed its success to as his innovative approach made the company widely known in the whole world for its - his - active protection systems. Barnes was now working on the brand new weapon system control, but he had never submitted sufficient reports, and, apparently, the previous executive left exactly because of Bucky and his wild temperament.

Despite the fact that he was a legendary figure, you had never met him or dealt with him directly. And since now Barnes became your boss’ pain, he became yours, too.

First, it was impossible to set a meeting with him directly. Mr. Simons wanted to take care of this issue himself and emailed Bucky multiple times, but always got the same dry answer that Barnes is too busy. Of course, he never answered any calls - until it was you calling him. Oddly, he was eager to talk to you. It took you just two calls to organize an online meeting for your boss, and, finally, yesterday you got to see the mysterious genius with your own eyes.

He was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t some skinny geek wearing glasses on his long nose, but a beefy man, his shoulders twice wider than your boss’. Barnes had dirty disheveled hair and a three-days beard, but, aside from that, he looked more like a star athlete rather than a nerdy engineer. He dressed in a pretty weird fashion, wearing tight t-shirts, leather pants, chains and heavy studded boots, but criticizing his style wasn’t a part of your job. You needed the reports he refused to submit and get him to attend the meetings.

Of course, he blamed everything on too many bureaucratic procedures and lack of time for anything but his new project. Even while speaking to the two of you he was pacing back and force in his laboratory, fetching this and that, fiddling with something that looked like a futuristic gun from one of Scott Ridley’s movies, his table full of screws and nails, markers, dirty papers, and metal parts of something you couldn’t recognize. Now you could see the true technological genius everyone was talking about.

However, you weren’t satisfied with the lack of information he was willing to give about his project. Barnes had a ridiculous amount of privileges, able to order whatever supplies he needed without anyone’s approval and working in a total secrecy, but HYDRA’s board of directors was growing tired of his reticence and temper tantrums Barnes was throwing every time someone tried to uncover his secrets. The career of your boss was at stake, and you needed Bucky to cooperate. You doubted the company would be willing to get rid of its most valuable employee, but the board of directors could easily limit his access to many of his beloved projects and make his life much more difficult.

Discussing the endless possibilities of what could happen if Barnes still refused to cooperate, you realized he wasn’t worried even the slightest bit. But he agreed to submit the reports if 1) he would get the team of engineers he picked by himself to help him with his project, regardless of whether they are involved with other things 2) he would get you “at his disposal any time he wanted”. Of course, at first you thought it was some kind of weird joke. Who in a right state of mind would ask for anything like this? You tried to laugh it off along with your boss, who was as shocked as you.

Then you figured out Barnes was dead serious. He wanted you.

Of course, you weren’t having it. Maybe your boss career was at stake, but it was his business, not yours. If the only thing he could offer you was being Barnes’ toy for the sake of the corporation, you would prefer to leave your place and find a position somewhere else.

How could he even suggest submitting to that psycho? Who did he think you were? A doll? A disposable Barbie or something? Even thinking of that was making you furious.

Sighing, you dropped your phone on the table and went to the kitchen to have a glass of wine. Despite the fact that you had already submitted the resignation form, you still needed to keep working before Mr. Simons would find a new secretary. It meant you would hear him pleading you to stay every day, and it wasn’t going to be nice. This damn Barnes made your life insufferable with just a couple of sentences.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep calling Bucky or trying to talk to some sense into him. Fuck that. Barnes was totally mad, and you weren’t having more of his bullshit.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you stilled, growing in frustration. What the hell? You had to carefully put an empty glass back on the counter and move to your room again to take the phone. Glancing out of the window, you saw that it was just your apartment while others had light in them. Oh, perfect.

“Why do I pay for all this new technology that never works?” You growled in frustration, rooting around to find your phone.

“That’s a good question. To be honest, I wouldn’t.”

You froze. Somebody was in your room. Turning around quickly, you had finally found your phone and touched the screen - the subtle blue glowing lit Barnes’ gloomy face, and for a few seconds he narrowed his eyes as your phone blinded him.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered in terror, stepping away from him and visibly shaking. God, how did he get through the security system? You had just installed a pretty expensive one, made by...

By HYDRA Corp.

“You see, your security system has so many drawbacks I hacked it even without a proper preparation. You have to consider switching to something more solid.” He said calmly as he made a step towards you. In the darkness of the room he looked even more intimidating with his long dark hair hanging on his eyes, his huge figure looming over you as you ended up being pressed to the wall. “You know, since you were so enthusiastic in the beginning, I expected you to act... more professional.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were trapped between the wall and Barnes’ body as you stared into his face, terrified to the core. What was he doing here? Did he break into your home just because you refused him? Was he damn insane?

Oh yes. Yes, Barnes was.

“You know, we can have so much fun together if you just leave your pathetic boss and come play with me.” He tilted his head to the side, letting his disheveled hair fall on his broad shoulder and taking away the phone from your hand. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? I know how much you’re doing while Simons pretends it’s all him. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Well, it was true. Your boss had finally offered you a promotion after you would take care of Barnes issue, so you didn’t complain, waiting for your chance. It was all over now.

“And what do you suggest?” You asked, knowing you needed to somehow get away from this psycho and run to the door.

“Take care of me instead of him.”

You clenched your teeth as Barnes got closer, almost touching the tip of your nose with his, his icy blue eyes fixated on you. You felt the strong smell of cigarettes coming from him and winced from this unwanted intimacy. Barnes was too close to let you get away.

“What do you mean? I don’t think you need a secretary.” You played innocent, not looking him into eyes and staring at something on your right. Now your eyes almost adjusted to the darkness surrounding you.

“I can get you a better position, baby. A project manager, huh? You will ensure me and my team do things right.” His hot breath was burning your skin as Bucky nuzzled against your cheek, making you squirm. “You’ll be the one overseeing the development of a new system, and I get to have you close all the time. Besides, your paycheck gonna be way bigger. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t think I have sufficient skills for this job.” You mumbled meekly, squeezing your eyes shut when he put his hand on your shoulder gently. “The Corporation won’t allow me to take this position.”

There was a smug grin on his face. “Oh dear, you’re perfect for the job, I know it. And don’t you worry about the Board of Directors, I can be quite... persuasive.” As he smiled at you, you were ready to cry in front of him, so frightened and almost hysterical.

“What do you want from me, Barnes?” You pleaded in distress, tired and scared of the game he was playing with you.

He took your arm in his and made you move to the bed, forcing you to sit down while he hovered over you, brushing his long hair out of his face and tucking one of his locks behind the ear. Then Barnes cupped your chin with his hand, making you look directly at him.

“Come play with me, baby.” He cooed gently at you, wiping away a tear running down your cheek. “I want you close. Come to me. Talk to me. Have fun with me. I’m not asking much, am I?”

“We’ve only met yesterday. Why-”

You heard him chuckling and got silent immediately. You didn’t like that creepy smile on his face. Why did he look like you were wrong? You knew for sure you didn’t meet him before - who could possibly forget someone like Bucky Barnes - but his smile was telling you that he knew you from somewhere before your yesterday’s encounter. Where else could he meet you? You had no idea.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll have enough time to know me better.” Barnes whispered, rubbing your chin with his thumb and closing the distance between the two of you. “We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   ​@helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ ​@void-hoechlin​ @abyssaint​ @heeeyitskay​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @soleil-dor​ @iheartsebastianstan​

[orsuliya]

Alright! Time for part 3 of married!Awu/XQ headcanons. This time? It’s all about the children!

There is nothing unplanned about Awu’s second pregnancy. The subject of children comes up again not long after Awu reunites with Xiao Qi after the so-called death of the latter. Their days in Ningshuo may be filled with the hustle and bustle of preparing for the upcoming march on the capital, but evenings and nights? Those are for holding each other close in search of comfort and reassurance. If not for that, Awu would scarcely have the strength to let Xiao Qi out of her eyesight during those first days and weeks.

During one of those quiet Ningshuo evenings Awu finally breaks. She has had to be strong for so long, all the while half-believing she would never be allowed the luxury of being weak in her husband’s arms again, that even now it takes time for her to let go and simply cry. When tears finally do come out, so do all of Awu’s past fears, leaving her one by one in an unstoppable torrent. Fear for those reliant on her, for the orphaned country and for her own fate; all of those are carefully listened to and soothed with words, silent affection and sense of complete togetherness.

One of those fears? Had you died, had you truly left me alone, what would I have of you for all the years to come? she asks, her voice muffled, her face pressed into her husband’s neck. There is a good reason why she was prepared to die after exacting her revenge. Far too many sleepless nights in Hulan had been spent imagining the long, dreary years of her widowhood. Ten, twenty, thirty years of loneliness, seeing her nephews and nieces being born and then growing up, with nothing, not even her husband’s sword to put in that bloody chapel; would that have been her fate?

She hits him – not too hard, but hard enough for it to be more than a playful tap – when he says that, in time, she would remarry and find happiness again. Would you?! she demands angrily, then softens, once she reads the answer in his eyes. A man should take responsibility from the beginning to the end. Not even a bloody sword to be mounted on the family altar, she laughs tiredly. You owe me, my Prince Yuzhang, you owe me and I shall be your most merciless creditor. Give me a child with your smile, one with your hands and eyes, she demands, pressing insistent kisses to that smile, to those hands and eyes, and then and only then will I consider myself satisfied.

He would, you know, he would have given her a dozen children if that were only possible, but surely she must know that it is not, it can never be in this lifetime. Awu can have anything else for the payment of his debt; he knows he owes her and will give her all that she may wish for that she does not already own. She wants children? Fine, she may have all the orphans in Ningshuo for the raising, if that will bring her joy. But he doesn’t, can never regret putting her health above all else and would give her five more miracle flowers if he had to…

Yes, Awu finally shuts her husband up, unable to take any more of this lethal sincerity. How? Well, the exact method I shall leave to your imagination, but the gist of it is as follows: Xiao Qi is not getting off that easily. They can and will have that child. How? Well, Awu might have plotted with Doctor Shen towards that goal and it will work this time. Maybe not now, maybe it will take another few months or years of fiery needles, but it’s not like they are in hurry. There is no way Awu will agree to have a child in the middle of a civil war, so her husband should really get on with restoring peace in all Cheng. Not right now! In the morning should be soon enough.

____________________________________

It does take some time, first to restore peace and then for Awu to actually get pregnant. In the meantime, she does take all the orphans in Ningshuo as an advance on that debt, not to mention their first son and daughter, Xiaohe and Qinzhi.

Doctor Shen, who – struck with a sudden premonition – had moved to Ningshuo among much grumbling and trembling over the contents of his priceless apothecary, is rewarded with the dubious honour of playing witness to Xiao Qi’s complete meltdown. The first thing our brave general does upon hearing of his wife’s pregnancy is to hug her and refuse to let go for a good while, not that she protests. The second thing? He panics like he’s never panicked before. Doctor Shen comes upon his noble patron, well, not hyperventilating, we’re talking about Xiao Qi here, remember. But certainly in throes of a good old anxiety attack. It’s… an experience for the good doctor, that’s for sure.

Thankfully Doctor Shen manages to talk Xiao Qi out of his wildest ideas. Like, for example, shutting Awu in her rooms in the middle of Ningshuo Fortress and standing guard over her until the baby is born. Yeah, that was not Xiao Qi’s proudest moment. Doctor Shen promises not to tell anyone of this sudden bout of unreasonable behaviour and keeps his word… for about three days, when he gladly throws Xiao Qi under the bus in order to ensure Awu’s full compliance with his own, medically justified safety measures.

Mind you, even Doctor Shen cannot work miracles, which he comes to bitterly regret in those next few months. Panicked Xiao Qi and worried Turnip Wang make for a truly hellish duo and Ningshuo soon experiences a steady trickle of accomplished doctors from the capital. Some of them have clearly been dragged out of their comfortable practices under duress, for others it’s quite an adventure. The latter soon find themselves put to work; no use in simply standing around and deliberating over a stunningly healthy woman when there are actual patients in need to be seen to!

____________________________________

Awu considers Xiao Qi’s debt fully repaid the moment she sees her son smile for the first time. Xiao Qi, an overachiever that he is, doesn’t quite agree… and a few years later they try for another child; this time it’s a daughter. One - as Xiao Qi likes to brag - as beautiful as her mother and isn’t it lucky that he has an army fit to guard the greatest treasures in all Cheng? Awu thinks that it would serve him right should Treasure the Younger marry an officer of that very army in the future. She doesn’t, by the way, but that is an entirely different story.

The children are named Yunshuo and Yunning, which is a reason of much good-natured teasing. Even among the children themselves. Yunning, once she grows to an age when she starts to assert her dominance, insists that really, her brother should listen to her in all things. He may be older in years, that much is true, but Ning always comes before Shuo, everybody knows that!

Jinruo’s words come true after all: Xiao Yunning is Awu’s tiny copy, only, according to Awu herself, twice as bossy and confident. Xiao Qi never questions this claim, at least not out loud, but Uncle Asu has no such qualms and immediately provides a good half-dozen stories to that effect. Now, Yunning has every chance to grow up spoiled with a mother who applauds her strong character, a father who might seem strict, yet folds like wet paper at the first sight of a trembling lip and a whole bunch of playmates only too easily coaxed into following her commands. And she very well might have... if not for one Hu Yao (who is alive and you won’t convince me otherwise, ha!). The younger Hu, a true Ningshuo legend, enjoys great authority among recruits and veterans both; she proves a match for a head-strong girl like Yunning, although only barely. No, Hu Yao’s pupil doesn’t become a general in her own right, choosing another path instead… but she keeps up with her training in the years to come.

Xiao Yunshuo, affectionately called Xiao Xiao, is no warrior in the making, being of a rather gentle disposition, something that he never grows out of, for all that this gentle disposition later turns out to hide a character of pure steel. Oh, make no mistake, Yunshuo is perfectly competent with weapons and on horseback, but it is not something that comes naturally to him, nor does he find much joy in fighting. This becomes blatantly obvious once he starts advanced training. Every child under Awu’s care is taught enough to be able to defend themselves or know when to run away, but nobody is forced to persist with military training, should they not wish to. Yunshuo persists all the same, making continuous progress. It’s only natural that he does: he’s rather frighteningly smart, that boy, and he works hard.

A bit too hard, as it turns out. Xiao Qi becomes suspicious of his son’s behaviour and makes sure to ‘accidentally’ come upon one of Yunshuo’s solitary and completely unsanctioned training sessions. Why, he asks and becomes rather angry once the truth starts coming out. No, not with Yunshuo. With himself, for not preventing this whole issue from existing in the first place. See, Yunshuo thinks it shameful that he, the firstborn and only son of Prince Yuzhang, the greatest general and warrior Cheng has had for generations, will never be able to become a worthy successor to his famous father. No, nobody has said anything, but Yunshuo is not stupid, he knows what he is and is not capable of!

Xiao Qi takes a minute to consider his next words carefully. In the end, he tells the truth: when he was a bit older that Yunshuo is now, he had no valuable skills, no education, no family and no real hope for the future. Signing up for an army was pretty much the easiest choice to make for somebody who didn’t really have all that much to live for. Killing people? Is not that difficult. All it takes is a good sharpened sword and some basic training. Learning to protect people, well, that was a bit harder; took Xiao Qi some years and a lot grief and pain to master that. Everything else – building a true home, making peace for yourself and everybody else, and creating a lasting, better future? That’s Awu’s forte and her work. There is no shame in having different skills, explains Xiao Qi. Find what you do best and make sure that it is of use to somebody. That’s it. Whatever Yunshuo’s skills, as long as at the end of the day he is be ready to use them to protect what is dear to him, he will be a warrior in his father’s eyes.

Xiao Yunshuo takes his father’s words to heart and, when the time comes, relays them to his own children. He never becomes a one man army, for all that he takes care not to let his skill with weapons go to rust. He does, however, become a great lord and statesman, and a startlingly brilliant strategist to boot; his advice is greatly appreciated by his older brother, the brave General Xiao Xiaohe… as well as by his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Cheng himself.

In Ningshuo, despite all his merits and great dignity, Xiao Yunshuo stays Xiao Xiao long, long after becoming a father himself.

____________________________________

Xiao Yunning is widely held by the ministers of Cheng to be the cause for at least a quarter of their grey hair. And all because of one rather tiny, if rather infamous deed. Okay, maybe not that tiny… But it is not Yunning’s fault that Xiao Qi had made such an impression on a bunch of delicate noblemen over twenty years earlier!

Once His Imperial Majesty, one Ma Jing, successfully negotiates puberty, it becomes a matter of national importance to supply him with a wife of appropriate station, character, beauty and fertility, the first and the last being the most important, of course. The true war over who will become the Empress of Cheng does not start until His Imperial Majesty becomes a fully-grown man; that is not until the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter comes of age. Having another Wang Empress is seen as inevitable by many; others are rather eager to see the streak of Wang Empresses die a final death. The idea of courting a foreign princess gets briefly thrown around and then soundly rejected. It’s a pity that all of His Majesty’s marriageable cousins with even a drop of Ma blood have the same family name, says somebody who sounds suspiciously like a true Classist Wei. For a moment there is complete silence as the thoughts of everyone present turn to the one cousin who is neither a Ma or a Wang.

See, Xiao Qi and Awu could easily make their daughter an Empress… if they thought that it would make her happy. They have nothing against Jing’er, why, he’s a beloved nephew to them both and they have taken a good measure of his character during the time he spent in Ningshuo, which amounts to a good couple of years. If they were to be honest, Yunning could use a husband this good-natured and conciliatory, and Jing’er would do well with an Empress of Yunning’s strength of character. There is also the matter of a rather touching childhood crush… but since Yunning herself has nothing but derogatory words for this whole imperial marriage mart mess, there is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done at all, as Xiao Qi quite readily assures his brother-in-law, adding that being an Empress is not an easy fate and one that he would not wish on anybody. Asu, long-used to not truly understanding Xiao Qi’s ambitions or rather the lack thereof, takes this assurance on its merits and goes back to planning his own daughter’s imperial wedding.

Rather surprisingly it’s Jing’er who becomes the greatest obstacle to Asu’s dynastic plans. Somehow he never really says no… but no mercenary father can ever pin him long enough to force him to say yes to any of the myriad of candidates. This stand-off lasts for some time, to Xiao Qi’s quiet amusement and Turnip’s frustration. Awu, on the other hand, becomes rather pensive, although she refuses to share her suspicions with anybody. It’s not like she has any proof…

...until her daughter provides her with all the proof she could have ever wished for.

The day another group of potential candidates is to be presented at court, Xiao Yunning pulls a Xiao Qi, causing many a minister to relieve their old trauma. Yes, she marches into the throne room accompanied by six of her companions, most of which do rather poorly at concealing weapons under their dresses. Yes, she climbs the stairs without as much as a by-your-leave. Yes, she does all of that while wearing clothing in a colour appropriate for the occasion. In this case? Wedding red. The main difference is that Ma Jing is a much wiser Emperor than Ma Zitan and grants Yunning’s petition immediately and with good grace.

The reason why Yunning did what she did, leaving Jing’er with no choice but to accept her suit? Well, that childhood crush might have been rather more than a crush. Really, Yunning would have had it in the bag the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, were His Imperial Majesty not such a noble bore. I cannot condemn you to carry this burden with me before you really know what you want, he said, every word disgustingly noble and self-sacrificial. You are not somebody who can be caged, so go and spread your wings and I shall wait for you for as long as it takes, he offered in a rather suspiciously bland tone of voice. Really, one could almost believe that Jing’er actually bought into that silly rumour that Xiao Qi requires every prospective son-in-law to fight him with live steel. Which, by the way, is not true. He only ever fought two rather persistent young lordlings who couldn’t understand that Qinzhi’s no means no.

Everything ends rather well for all interested parties, although Turnip keeps grumbling about having an unfairly deceitful brother-in-law. Awu quickly shuts him down, if only to get in her own portion of shameless teasing. See, if Xiao Qi wanted to avoid such situations, then he should have given his children a better example. This quickly devolves into a round of Yuzhang-style teasing, which prompts a stark realization from Xiao Yunning. She might be the Empress-to-be now, but even being thrice an Empress would still give her no power to stop her parents from being a pair of embarrassing old people in love. Jing’er, ever the conciliator, shows his diplomatic skill by proposing that she might have her revenge… by being one half of a pair of embarrassing young people in love.

The Wang Princess of that generation, a rather lovely and wise young woman by the name of Wang Xu, is not all that sad about losing a chance at the throne. Why, her tastes were always rather specific and in general ran more to generals than delicate young nobles. Now, this Xiao Xiaohe looks like an interesting specimen and certainly worthy of taking a closer look, should one be in-market for a pet general of one’s own...

[arcticdementor]

I recently had Robin Hanson on the CSPI podcast to talk about futarchy. It’s one thing to spread knowledge on a particular issue, it’s another to invent a new technology to create more knowledge in the world, and help apply it where needed. That’s what I see Robin doing. He convinced me that although it may take a very long time, one day humanity will give less of a role to systems like peer review and unaccountable bureaucracy in determining how we understand the world, and more of a role to prediction markets. The logic is just too compelling. But sooner is better than later, and if you want to be involved, please reach out.

…

The first step towards this glorious future is convincing people that a world where more decisions are made based on prediction markets is desirable and achievable. In that spirit, below is a transcript of our conversation, lightly edited for clarity. To read more about futarchy, see here.

…

Robin: Right. This conditional market mechanism hasn't actually been tested out in the world outside of the laboratory tests in that we haven't been able to get people interested enough to try it. We've had a lot of tests of speculative markets that aren't conditional in the sense that we've had markets on deadlines, whether you make a deadline in sales and things like that.

We've probably had 100 different trials like that over the last few decades. Typically what happens is that if there's enough support for the market in order to induce an affectivity then again the price is about as accurate or more accurate than the status quo and most users are satisfied. The costs are modest. That's been the history for many decades.

However a key problem is usually the market gets killed in the sense that an organization says to stop and doesn't continue it. The main reason is that it's relatively disruptive. These markets are politically disruptive. The way they are disruptive is analogous to, imagine you put a very knowledgeable autist in the C suite, that is somebody in the C suite that knows a lot about the company and they go to the meetings. They just blurt out when they know things that it's relevant to the conversation but they have no political savvy.

They have no sense of, what does anybody want to hear, or who will be bothered by anything they say. That sort of an autist would not last long in the C-suite. They would be shunted aside and become an advisor to someone perhaps, trusted advisor to their side but they wouldn't be allowed to speak in the boardroom. But that's what a prediction market is. It has no idea who wants to hear what it has to say.

It will often say things that people do not want to hear, and that embarrass them, and that contradict what they've said. Then all the worse of course it will be proven right.

Richard: Yeah. But what's stopping the autist, or I guess what's stopping them is nobody has just done this yet? But theoretically you could imagine the autist setting up the rules for the corporation, right?

Robin: You might if they were in charge at the beginning sure.

…

Robin: Now we move to the question of like, what fraction of companies out there are actually maximizing profits?

Richard: Yeah.

Robin: It’s a very basic question in economics and in our world. We economists tend to assume as a simple initial working model that organizations that are for profit actually do maximize profits. That's the thing they usually do. If you give them a choice of A or B, and B is higher profit they'll choose B.

Here if you apply that model you say, “Well, this looks like it would give them key information to make key decisions like, ‘Will we make the deadline,’ and it will be valuable. The cost is relatively low so of course they would do it.” That's what you would say if you were applying that theory. Then here we have a case where it looks like, well it hasn't happened yet.

You might think, “Okay, innovation is slow. It takes a while,” but we’ve been waiting several decades. Honestly if I look across a wide range of other areas of corporate behavior I can't fully support this profit maximizing theory. I think I can find a lot of other places where what they do does not maximize profits.

I could give you a long list of examples. We could go through some of those but then the question is, “Well, how do I come to terms with it? What theory do I have affirms in the absence of profit maximizing to explain the behavior?”

…

Robin: I mean I think in fact the correct response is to say the free market version is probably the best. You just have no idea how much worse things can be. People often look at the status quo of a business world say that is relatively free market. They look at this up close and they go, “This looks terrible how could you possibly be defending this?”

The argument has to be, “Well, it would just be so much worse without this.” And in fact often if you look to large stable organizations like universities and government agencies, or churches that have been around for a long time it is in fact worse. I think that's roughly right. Another story might be we've hobbled some of the competition between firms that might solve some of these problems.

I honestly think one of the biggest wins we could do is to just allow stronger hostile takeovers. The laws at the moment make it harder to do hostile takeovers. They require a substantial tax on them in essence. If you see a badly run company and you have an idea how it could be run better the problem is how are you going to profit on that? But if you could just buy up the company, change its management and then sell it again after it was better that would be a big, powerful engine for making it better.

There have been times when that mechanism has been allowed to do more and it has made huge changes. That's what inspired people to lock it down and prevent those changes because they were scared it was coming for them.

…

Richard: I've seen stuff like who will win the tip off in basketball, and who's going to win the coin toss in a football game? Who's going to win first quarter?

Robin: I once looked onto doing this for war college war games. As you may know many war colleges have war games where they put teams on different sides and give them various equipment in a simulated war. They have them go to war. You could imagine, well letting everybody else who’s watching the war game give advice about particular strategies in the war game. That seemed plausible to me but then when I talked to people at war colleges I found that most of these war games are kind of fake.

Richard: Yeah.

Robin: They have a predetermined outcome that’s some lesson they want to tell, and so they aren't really letting it be open to winning one side or the other.

Richard: No, that's funny because you'll see headlines every now and then that'll say, “Oh, my God. The US loses to China in a war game,” and yeah I always thought that that’s…

Robin: I’m sure there probably are real war games somewhere. They just aren't at the war colleges. That's where I was thinking I could convince somebody to try this sort of thing.

…

Richard: What is the advantage of the blockchain? What is the difference between a blockchain say market versus just something like PredictIt?

Robin: Well, that's an excellent question. Initially the story was that blockchain was out of control, that it couldn't be regulated so you could set up a system on a blockchain. If the regulators didn't like it they didn't have anybody to go to stop it. The blockchain just kept going regardless of who didn't like it.

That was a big selling point. People said, “Well, look at all this financial innovation we can do because we are free from existing regulations on the blockchain.” That's what they said, and then a lot of companies formed on this basis.

But these companies didn't take personal strategies to match that rhetoric. You would think if your plan was to put a product on the blockchain and that you were going to say nanny nanny to the regulators because, “You can’t get me,” you wouldn’t have a big public presence with the headquarters, and your picture in the magazines, and show up in person at conferences right? Because…

Richard: Yeah. Sure.

Robin: ...well, that makes you more obviously a target right? That's what they did though, and then they sort of back pedaled and said later, “Oh, we're following all the regulations.” But you know people don’t really believe that. It's been this big question, to what extent will governments crack down on these blockchain things that at least from the government regulators point of view are not following their rules?

Richard: Yeah. Do you have in mind the Coinbase news that had come out the last few days, or was it today or yesterday that-

Robin: This is just a continuing issue. I don't have any particular recent event in mind but there are lots of stories about regulators thinking of doing a lot more regulating and cracking down more. This is a big question about blockchain is how far will they crack down, and what will be the consequences? Of course people say, “Well, in principle Bitcoin can keep chugging along even if they do crack down,” and no doubt that's true to some degree.

But the question of how much activity there'll be is still somewhat open. You could have it chugging along with a far lower activity because a lot of people have been discouraged.

…

Robin: Let me at this point admit what I would say is the biggest problem with futarchy and with some of these other decision markets, which is that they make hypocrisy harder, which is actually a problem. You might think, “Well, hypocrisy is a bad thing. Making it harder is good right?” Well, let’s walk through that.

At the moment, say ordinary people can claim to love trees and they just care a lot about trees. Trees real estate wonderful and they certainly wouldn’t want to have fewer trees. But then they elect politicians who have to make choices about trees versus other things. Those politicians can probably read the public and say, “Well, they say they like trees but they don’t really like trees that much, so I’m not actually going to go save some trees by interfering with something else.”

Then if the public ever finds out that somehow not everything was being done to save trees, the public can complain and say, “That damn politician! They’re corrupt! They were bought out and I sure hate them. Let’s throw them out of office,”right? Because the politician is allowing the public to be hypocritical, to pretend they care more about trees than they do.

…

Robin: The pandemic was not a big enough crisis that we fired people who did badly on it. Neither was Afghanistan. We’re in a world where we have these big things we do wrong but they somehow just aren’t bad enough to really scare us into trying different things. The question is where will we ever see some nation or big organization that’s scared enough about losing to be willing to roll the dice and try some big changes?

Richard: When you look at the American Military established under World War II I mean the military establishment was a new thing. You were building basically something from scratch. Now you have all these vested interests. You know it’s funny. The places, the countries with the most US Military… the most military personnel in the world are actually Italy, Germany, Japan, and South Korea right?

Robin: Those are risky, dangerous spots. You’d want troops there wouldn’t you?

Richard: Yeah. Well, maybe but if you notice they have something in common. Those are the Axis powers and the Korean War right?

Robin: Right.

Richard: Basically they’re the exact same place they were in 1945 to 1950 and so-

Robin: Hysteresis right? Enormous path dependence?

Richard: Yeah, exactly. Enormous dependence. Yeah, Italy. Is that obvious? The most dangerous place in the world. Maybe, maybe not.

Robin: No, and it’s not remotely obviously the most dangerous place in the world.

Richard: Yeah. Do you look around the world, and right now do you see variation in the extent to which countries are willing to not only take risks but take risks specifically along the path that you suggest?

[kimishima-naomi]

miçanga

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31194542 In response to Fly’s awesome fic - you don’t have to read it, but it helps with the context.

Content warning: talk of less-than-great parents, as depicted by canon. Also, mentions of trans stuff, which, if you know Fly, shouldn’t surprise you.

A headache is beating at her left temple – a soft, hot pulse compressing her skull. It's not a migraine, far from, but she still took a naproxen just in case it turns into one.

Naomi isn't sure of the time. It feels like it's past midnight, but she can't bring herself to get up from the couch and get ready for sleep. She isn't even out of her suit yet.

The living room is only lit by her laptop, an empty case file open on the screen. She avoids looking directly at it. Light feels too bright, like it always does.

It was just a meeting. A talk with a friend and a colleague. You have no reasons to be tired.

No, that's a transparent lie. Naomi prefers not to lie to herself.

You're not calling it a trigger, are you? Of course not – it's as far from a trigger as this headache is from a real migraine. Just a...

Like bumping an old scar the exact wrong way.

She grinds her teeth for a moment. Bad habit.

Shouldn't be this hard. Why...

Stiles. She wouldn't have assumed he was a surgeon if she'd met him outside of work. Anything but. Stiles was a walking disaster area, a chronically late chronically messy chronically lost... absolute prodigy with a scalpel. Naomi knew a fellow prodigy when she saw one.

Maybe even more so than you. She had to smile – Dr. Chase's stories about Derek blundering his way through exams managed to make her laugh like few things did.

Despite it all, Stiles is... level. Adjusted. Not like...

Naomi winces – not just from the headache. She has to think several times over to phrase the next statement to herself.

You can usually tell, can't you. When someone's parents are... less than stellar.

Takes one to know one, hm? Her lips move slightly, but she doesn't say the words aloud. Talking to herself has become a habit, and she wants it gone.

Or... maybe that wasn't such a surprise, after all. Hearing these stories. About what Stiles used to be like – chronically... unsure of himself, unable to believe he could get anything right.

That was telling.

Self-doubt is the mind killer for a surgeon. Hell, on some level, Naomi was surprised Derek became one, after all. The man must've truly been determined. An iron will, buried... deep inside. Quite deep.

She rolls her shoulders – straightening out mechanically, getting rid of the slouch she didn't know was there, taking a mandatory post-surgery deep breath.

...Her own family wasn't nearly that bad, of course. They just didn't care. That was fine by her – she'd seen otherwise in medical school, of course; classmates driven to near-suicide by pressure, weight of their medical clans on their shoulders-

Maybe that's why she coped differently. Grit her teeth, soldiered on, forged herself as if into a scalpel. Forged herself into somebody, seeking... not mere attention, of course; admiration, respect she knew she deserved.

You used to think it'd be better if they cared. Better to get a beating for a bad grade than know they don't care if you even attend school, right?

Naomi winces again. That, again, isn't truth. Not quite – if she ever did think that, well, that was in early childhood.

Her family didn't do anything all that bad. Except not acknowledging her existence after... that... happened.

Not like they acknowledged it before.

She chuckles softly, admitting the humor of that. No, they didn't.

She never went back to Japan.

All right, enough self-pity. This isn't about her, it's about Derek. And he got one rotten deal today.

Mother's Day, hm? Explains all the diabetes-inducing posts across her feed, despite her social networks being purely for work.

Frowning at the light, she checks her laptop. Second Sunday in May. That minutely annoys her – Thanksgiving and Easter are hard enough to remember.

Stiles... She doesn't ever guess at what Stiles was like before transitioning. Nor does she want to guess – the mere thought would feel invasive like a burrowing parasite.

But, whatever he was like in the past, he seems much better off now. Good.

She rubs her temple – it does nothing for the headache, but the bracelet catches unfamiliar on her wrist. She hasn't worn those in a long time, bracelets or rings, strictly forbidden by sterility rules.

Alyssa's gift. A handmade... misanga – she's sure that's Portuguese... friendship bracelet? It's a pretty one, shades of red and white – she knows that Alyssa knows she likes these colors.

It means the world to her. Who'd have thought.

She's still uneasy – a shard of some thought is lodged deep and painful like a splinter, something that angered her so much at the time that-

Ah.

Gently, Naomi undoes the fastener on the bracelet and rests it down on the keyboard. She's afraid she might break it – or anything that might get caught in her hands at this moment.

Tama. The cat's name is unusually certain in her memory.

Funny. She was never a cat person. She still isn't – Chloe, for all her softness, fuzziness, and... purr-iness, is a handful; from waking her up at four in the morning for an unscheduled portion of food (No.) to tripping her up in the middle of the night if she tries to walk somewhere without turning on the lights.

But that cat is precious to Alyssa. And that means it’s precious to Naomi, by some extraordinary, transitional property.

Besides, they both survived Rosalia. The critter was more resilient than she'd imagine.

An endoscopy on a cat... at the time, she justified it to herself by thinking about the valuable data they might get from a feline survivor. But, the truth is a lot more simple. 

This is a girl who just lost her family, and this is her ‘kitty’, and you'd be right scum if you simply put it down.

Naomi rolls her shoulders again. Her fingers feel cold and heavy. The headache is worsening.

She's pretty certain she's said something about wanting to die. Thought it, certainly. Anything but knowing how much of a fuсkup she-

She stands up sharply. Those kinds of thoughts are best confronted in better lighting.

The lights turning on earn a disapproving meow. She hadn't heard the cat sneak in. Figures.

Maybe it wants to spend time with you.

That's an unusually positive thought, and Naomi forces herself to welcome it.

She sits back down, picks the bracelet up again. It flows between her fingers, coils up like a small living creature. She feels the rough weave slowly before fastening it on her wrist again.

There's no point in that, not if she's planning to get some sleep anyway, and yet it's somehow very important right now as a... symbol? No. A promise to her kid.

A promise to do better.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed

In which Peggy has to have those conversations she’s been putting off.

-

Having cleaned out her room at the Botticelli Gardens, Kay no longer had a place to stay in Los Angeles.  Something would obviously have to be done about that, but Peggy was not yet at the point where she was willing to trust the woman to stay in a hotel.  She therefore invited Kay back to her place to wash up and change, and Kay seemed happy to accept.  While Peggy unpacked, Kay took a shower, and Peggy could hear her chanting cheerful nonsense under the spray.

“Boom ba-boom-boom boom ba-boom-boom bass!  He got that super bass!”

She came out wrapped in a towel, and Peggy noted that the roots of her blonde hair were growing out darker.  Peggy took her own turn to wash up, and came out to find Kay already dressed, in a black skirt with a red jacket and matching red hat, which she was adjusting in front of the mirror.

“What do you think?” she asked, turning so that Peggy could inspect her outfit.

“A bit flashy for a spy,” Peggy replied, grabbing the pile of clothes she’d left folded on the vanity.

“I’m a flashy spy,” said Kay with a smile.  “The James Bond of the Red Room.  Or… no, wait, that’s not until the fifties, is it?  James Bond.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” said Peggy, “but if I ever meet the gentleman I will give him your regards.”

Once clean, dressed, and made-up, Peggy felt considerably more confident as she and Kay headed back to the Auerbach Theatrical Agency front to meet with Daniel.  Unfortunately, more confident was not the same as actually feeling like she knew what she was doing, and there was definitely a knot of dread in the bottom of her stomach that would not go away.  Sooner or later Daniel would absolutely ask her what she meant to do about Steve.  Her only honest reply would be that she didn’t know yet and needed time to figure it out.  It was the figuring out that was going to be agony.

Rose stood up to greet Peggy as she stepped inside, then stopped short when she saw Kay.

“Good afternoon, Peggy,” Rose said cautiously.

“Hello, Rose, it’s good to be back,” Peggy replied.  “I believe you’ve met Miss Katerina Lachkova.”

“Call me Kay.”

“She’s given us some valuable intelligence and for now Chief Sousa and I have chosen to continue working with her,” Peggy said.  She wanted both Rose and Kay to know that this was open to change at very short notice.

“I love your lipstick,” said Kay.  “That’s the perfect shade for a redhead.”

“Thank you.  Your jacket is very becoming also,” Rose told her.

Having thus established that the two would refrain from trying to kill each other until Peggy gave them permission, Rose allowed Peggy and Kay upstairs.  Daniel was waiting in his office for them, and the way he sat up and lowered his hands, Peggy could immediately tell he’d been sitting there holding his head.

She also realized that the presence of Kay would keep him from talking about personal matters, which was… it was only a temporary reprieve, but it was something.  Peggy shut the door behind them, and went to sit down in the chair where Kay had sat while interrogating her as ‘Nadine Russel.’

“I can’t believe you found him alive,” said Daniel.

“Neither can I,” Peggy replied.  “Although Kay claims to have known the whole time.”

“The serum acts to keep his body functioning almost no matter what,” Kay said.  “So when he became unconscious in the water, it slowed his metabolism to reduce the demand for oxygen.  The cold slowed it further, so he went into a state of suspended animation that could have kept him alive almost indefinitely.”

“And this is something the Soviets know?” asked Daniel.

“They picked up a number of Schmidt’s experimental subjects from various camps during and after the war,” Kay explained.  “It’s something they’ve been working very hard on, and they’re going to be working even harder once they learn that Captain America is back.  They will see it a you having a weapon they don’t.”

“Not that there aren’t people here who don’t think the same thing,” Peggy noted dryly.

“From what I know of him, the United States government will find Captain Rogers harder to control in peacetime than they thought,” said Kay.

“I agree,” said Peggy, and made a mental note to ask later what kind of things Steve had gotten up to in that alternate twenty-first century.

Daniel nodded.  “Well, in the meantime, I do have some good news.”  He picked up a file off his desk.  “I don’t have a lot of information yet, but it looks like the East Coast has Underwood.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Peggy.  That at least was one less thing to worry about.

“Did they mention me at all?” Kay asked.

“No, as a matter of fact, they didn’t,” Daniel told her warily .  He plainly still wasn’t sure what to make of Kay, any more than he had any idea what to think of Steve’s unexpected return.  “I think they’re trying to keep that on the down-low… although Thompson did mention a splitting headache the morning after Stark’s plane left New York.”

“That wasn’t me,” said Kay.  “Drowsiness or slurred speech, yes, but not headache.”

“I don’t imagine Thompson has requested me again,” Peggy noted.  The last time he’d tried to interrogate Dottie, she’d nearly broken his nose.  He had to save face by now allowing it to happen again – and that meant not giving Peggy a chance to upstage him.

“He hasn’t,” Daniel said, “but I thought you’d want to know.”

“I do want to know,” said Peggy, turning to Kay.

Kay nodded.  “I’m going to need to talk to her,” she said.  “Some of my information is out of date, and I think she’ll be able to fill me in.”

Daniel looked at Peggy.  She nodded.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to arrange that,” he said.  “Officially, you’re still a wanted foreign agent.”

“If you can’t arrange it, I can do it for myself,” said Kay, “but it’d be nice if I didn’t have to.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Daniel said.  “Miss Lake… do you mind giving Agent Carter and myself a moment to talk in private?”

“Of course not.”  Kay stood up.  “I’ll wait outside.”

“On the other side of the room, please,” said Peggy.  “And do try not to cheat anybody out of their entire life’s savings while you’re there.”

“Oh, that’s asking a lot.  I can’t make promises.”  Kay smiled and shut the door behind her when she left.  Peggy and Daniel watched through the office window as she went to the other side of the room, leaned against the wall, and opened her compact to check her makeup.

Daniel turned to Peggy again.  “Okay, tell me the rest.”

“I want you to at least pretend I haven’t told you this when we’re in front of her,” Peggy warned him, “although I’m sure she can guess.  I feel like the fewer people know, the better.”  She took a deep breath.  “She says she knew where Steve was because she’s a time traveler from the twenty-first century.”

Of course Daniel’s first reaction was to scoff, but Peggy could see him quickly catch himself.  He knew she wouldn’t tell him something that sounded so ridiculous without a reason.  She detailed what had happened on their trip, and the full story Kay had told her… leaving out the parts about her and Daniel’s own future.  That was irrelevant now, as Kay herself had pointed out.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” Peggy said.  “I want to believe her, but that may just be wishful thinking.  Her information has been good so far, but if she wants something from us that we may not be willing to give her… what better way to put us in her debt than by giving us Steve?  Not just us personally, but the entire country?  Or to establish trust?  She told me she wants me to trust her.  Why would somebody give us Captain America if they didn’t have the country’s best interests at heart?”

Daniel hesitated, his eyes moving back and forth as if he were trying to choose between two possible directions for this conversation.  “Has she given you any idea what she might want in return?”

“Sort of,” said Peggy.  “She told us that Steve’s friend, Sergeant Barnes, is captive in a facility in the USSR.  She has some kind of a plan to rescue him, and it seems to hinge on Dottie telling her where he’s being held.”

He mulled that over for a few moments.  “We’ll have to be very, very careful if we let her talk to Underwood,” Daniel decided.  “What does your gut tell you?”

“I’m afraid my gut is every bit as confused as the rest of me,” said Peggy.

Of course, Peggy knew her gut wasn’t the organ Daniel was really concerned with, as his next question confirmed.  “So on a personal level…” he began.

“Oh, no,” Peggy groaned.

“I’m not going to…” Daniel swallowed.  “I just need to know what you want, Peggy.”

Peggy shut her eyes as she felt those traitorous tears well up again.  “I don’t know what I want yet.”

That seemed to surprise him.  “You don’t?” he asked.

“No, I don’t,” Peggy said.  It was just as she’d feared, wasn’t it?  Daniel really thought Peggy had been settling for him and that he had no chance now that Steve was back.  She took a couple of deep breaths and forced her emotions to calm down.  “I knew Steve three years ago, in the middle of a war, in a totally different world.  I don’t know how well I remember him, and he doesn’t know how much I might have changed.  I’m going to need some time to work it all out.”

“Right, of course you are,” said Daniel, lowering his head a little in embarrassment.  “I’ll give you some room, then.”

“Thank you,” Peggy said, but she could see in his face that he already expected to lose.

To distract herself, she glanced out the window to see what Kay was doing, and found her cheerfully flirting with Samberley, who appeared to be falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

“I think we’d better put a stop to that,” said Peggy.

“I think you’re right,” Daniel agreed, sounding as relieved as she to have an excuse to end this conversation.  He got up and as he opened the door, Peggy caught his arm.

“Just promise me whatever happens, you won’t think it’s because you’re unworthy,” she said, looking him firmly in the eye.  “Worth has nothing to do with it.  You are not in any way less than he is.”

“You say that,” said Daniel, with just a hint of a smile, “but I’m definitely shorter.”

Peggy smiled back, and stood up a little taller to kiss his cheek.

That was the moment when the elevator doors opened.  Peggy dropped back onto her heels and turned to look as Masters stepped into the room – followed closely by Steve Rogers.  Like Peggy and Kay, Steve had apparently had some time to clean up.  He’d shaved and combed his hair, and was now dressed in a beige shirt with a tie.  People crowded around to meet him as he entered, but he looked right over their heads and into Peggy’s eyes.

In a world where time travel was apparently possible, and where men cold survive three years frozen solid in the arctic ice, it simply wasn’t fair that Peggy couldn’t sink into the floor and vanish.

“Daniel!” said Masters, worming his way through the crowd towards him.  “It looks like I’m gonna have to borrow a couple of your agents.”

Should Peggy move away from Daniel?  But wouldn’t that just make it more obvious that she wanted to hide something from Steve?  Why was she trying to hide anything, anyway?  She’d had the entire trip from the Valiant to Los Angeles to tell Steve what she’d been doing for the last three years and she hadn’t said a thing.  If she’d stopped to think about it she would probably have decided it was in order to avoid overwhelming him, but wasn’t it just because she didn’t want Steve to know she was on the verge of marrying somebody else?

“Steve,” said Masters, making Peggy bristle.  “I think you’ve met Daniel Sousa.”

“We met at the airport, yeah,” said Steve.  He gave Peggy a questioning look.  She tried not to react to it… she would have to sit down with him and explain.  Was he remembering how she’d told him off for kissing that blonde in the SSR offices, how she’d thrown the words the right partner back at him?  He’d later told her what had happened and she’d felt foolish.  Would Steve expect to hear that this, too, was only a misunderstanding?

“Captain,” said Daniel, shaking Steve’s hand.

Masters put a hand on Steve’s shoulder as if the two were supposed to be best friends now.  “We’re taking Steve to New York to meet the president and visit his hometown, and he’s requested that Carter and Lake come along, since they’re the ones that found the spot.”

Peggy glanced at Lake, still standing by the wall next to Samberley, then up at Steve.  Everything he was thinking had always shown on his face, but that was no help to her because right now he wasn’t thinking at all about why he wanted Peggy and Kay with him.  He was thinking about what he’d just seen, and it was certain now that he had seen it.

“Of course,” said Daniel.  “They’re welcome to.”

“Wonderful.”  Masters patted Steve’s back again.  “We’d best get a move on, then.  The whole country’s waiting to welcome the Captain back!”